AkashaTheKitty's Fics

Secrets, Chapter 6.2/15

2013-12-19T01:08:08Z

Secrets, Chapter 6.1/15

2013-12-19T01:01:11Z

Secrets, Chapter 5/15

2013-03-17T09:35:52Z

Title: Secrets
Series: Silencio
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit derivative work based on the world and characters of J. K. Rowling.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut
Main Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Story Warnings: Dubious Consent, Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Substance Abuse
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nine years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione decides to take a holiday from her life to work out who she is and what she wants to do with herself. She soon gets the feeling that Draco Malfoy might be the key to her salvation, but Draco seems to be consumed by a need to keep secrets that are destroying him and does not want her interfering. Armed with a determination to save someone who doesn't want to be saved, she sets out to see how he might fit into the oddly shaped puzzle that is her life.
Credit: Thank you to dollfaced and mazvn for the comprehensive beta and filigree1 for the Britpick. Extra thank you to dollfaced for the banner.
Chapter Length: 8,861

* * *

Hermione had a headache. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence these days, but this morning it was worse. She hadn't slept well at all with far too many thoughts and scenarios running through her head, and now she was paying the price.

Draco Malfoy had kissed her last night. Kissed her. At first it had seemed almost like a way to shut her up, but then he'd deepened the kiss and it had almost seemed like he was completely full of it when he said he didn't want her... right until he'd shoved her away, wearing an extremely unflattering look of horror on his face.

Surprise at what had happened hadn't actually been the source of her sleepless night. Not really. It was very possible that she wasn't as traditionally pretty as some of the other women Malfoy had something going on with, but given how he seemed to like variety, she'd figured his gaze would land on her sooner or later. She'd even wanted it to land there. She wasn't as pure and naïve as everyone, including Malfoy, seemed to think. The draw for her was that unlike Darius, Malfoy didn't seem very interested in anything beyond maybe a night or two and, quite frankly, she could use that. She hadn't been touched in so very long and those dreams she kept having were highlighting how much she missed the physical aspect of a relationship, if not the emotional mess. She'd thought that if it happened, then maybe it could be something where everyone walked away happy after getting exactly what they wanted and nothing more.

She supposed there was still a chance that everything could work out like that.

It was just... she didn't like the way he was mocking her attraction. She'd put a brave face on it, but it was rather humiliating to have him notice her interest in him and then use it to try and hurt her. It was also rather humiliating to have him react to his own instincts the way he had and then visibly recoil from her afterwards. He hadn't even spoken to her. Hadn't told her to leave. He'd simply stared at her and then turned and walked into his bedroom, locking the door so she couldn't follow.

What had he expected her to do? Go after him and try to force herself on him? That was fairly insulting, and also worrisome if based on his experiences with other women.

Yet, at the same time, she wasn't about to give up on trying to help him. That day, when Darius had begun talking in great detail about a personal family matter, something had happened in Hermione's head. Like the time she'd fainted, suddenly things had shifted out of focus, and it was as if a thread had been severed inside her, making a part of her float away. Only this time, she'd stayed conscious. She'd vaguely watched at least most of what had happened, including Malfoy's quite unexpected kindness. Once she'd managed to fight her way back, he'd returned to his old self, but whilst she'd been at her most vulnerable, he'd been... compassionate. Almost sweet.

She still didn't understand what had happened. When told the full story, or at least as much of it as Hermione felt comfortable sharing, Madam Vera had called it dissociation and said that it happened sometimes when a person needed to protect themselves. Yet, it had never happened before. Wouldn't it have happened before? Shouldn't it have happened before? Madam Vera didn't seem to think so. She'd said a body could be unpredictable and Hermione had probably run out of the resources needed for her usual defences.

She'd given Hermione the name and address of someone in London and recommended Hermione travel by Floo down from Hogsmeade to go and talk to him once or twice a week.

Hermione had thanked Madam Vera, seeing as that was only polite, but she had no intention of going. It had happened once. Maybe if she made it a habit to dissociate or faint, like she'd done down in Hogsmeade for still completely unknown reasons, then there would be a reason to go. As it was, she was merely under a lot of stress and only needed to learn to cope better.

But one thing she wasn't coping very well with was this headache. So up she went for yet another visit to the Hospital Wing. She'd been here a little too often for her own liking lately, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

It was still very early, but fortunately Madam Vera was up. Hermione could hear her rustling about in her supply room. There were screens set up around one bed, but other than that, the place looked deserted. Hermione hesitantly took another step forward but was halted by a cheery, "Be right with you!"

Oh, right. Madam Vera had something in place so she could hear when people entered. Hermione always seemed to forget that. She sat down on the edge of a bed, waiting.

A few minutes later Madam Vera came out, wiping her hands. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Headache," Hermione simply said.

"Hmm." Madam Vera said, peering into her eyes. "Anything else? Any tension or soreness?"

"No, just a headache, Madam--"

"Please, just Vera. You aren't one of the students."

"All right... Vera..."

"Any worries?"

"Maybe a few. I don't know. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"I'll get you a few potions so you won't have to come here so often, but do try to find ways to avoid the strain that causes these."

"Of course."

Vera disappeared off to find the potions just as one of the screens shielding that one bed was noisily pushed aside, scraping over the floor in a manner that made Hermione involuntarily cry out as the sound painfully pierced her ears and made her head pound worse. She scowled over at the offender, only to completely stop in her tracks. Malfoy. Wearing only trousers and glaring at her before he sat down and began pulling on socks.

"Um, good morning?" she ventured. He wasn't exactly the first person she'd thought she'd find in a bed up here this morning. Maybe he'd had a lot more to drink last night? Or maybe he couldn't sleep either?

"Would've been better if your nattering hadn't woken me up," he snapped. Apparently he was cheery in the mornings.

She tried very hard and failed not to stare at him out of the corner of her eye as he pulled on a shirt and, without closing it first, bent over to pull on his boots, the movement of the necklace he was wearing drawing her eyes to the very appealing image of his chest. His torso was another part of him that didn't make any sense. It had become quite clear to Hermione over these past weeks that Malfoy spent most of his free time sleeping around and doing whatever else he needed to in order to forget whatever was haunting him. Never had she seen even the tiniest hint that he engaged in any kind of physical activity that wasn't sex. Yet here it was... a body that certainly wasn't unpleasant on the eyes.

"Look your fill yet, or do you want me to leave it open a while longer?" he asked, getting to his feet to button his shirt.

She quickly looked away, her cheeks flaming. He was still mocking her. Trying to save some of her dignity she said, "I didn't mean to stare. I simply couldn't shake this idea... that maybe you didn't use to wear shirts."

She sensed that he stilled. "What?"

"I know. It's silly. How would I know what you wore or didn't wear under the robes I always saw you in?" She glanced at him and was surprised to see that he'd paled.

Then he sneered. "Maybe you spent far too much time thinking about me naked back then as well," he said and would've probably stormed off if Vera hadn't chosen that very moment to come back out with the potions for Hermione and to request to have a word with Malfoy.

Hermione left. She had a lesson soon and, besides, it wasn't that pleasant to be viciously mocked.

* * *

Hermione decided to give Malfoy some space after that. Not only had he made his wishes abundantly clear, and trying to change his mind was exhausting and rather futile, but she also had to focus more on her teaching duties these days. She'd worked on fitting the House Unity project themes in where everyone's lesson plans would allow for it with a minimal overlap, and that hadn't been very easy. It was now spread out over the second half of the year, with each teacher devoting pockets of time to whoever needed it. The students had already been put together in groups of one from each House--which had almost caused a riot--and had then been given a few weeks to loosely define what their projects were to be about as well as how they meant to achieve their goal with their combined strengths. They were expected to do any preliminary work in good time.

It was becoming more and more apparent that Hermione had miscalculated the level of opposition to the project slightly. Since she'd done her very best to group people with only those they shared subjects with, she'd now gone to each and every teacher and requested that those groups be forced at all times, even for other tasks. It had visibly caused extra levels of friction, but Hermione felt optimistic that they'd eventually get used to it and get to work. It wasn't, however, until McGonagall got up in the Great Hall and announced that anyone dissatisfied with their group would also be required to eat and share dormitories with each other that things quieted down on the surface. But everyone was still seething.

Malfoy never commented, but she knew what he was thinking and she resented it very much. It was still a good idea, damn him. A great idea, even! The very fact that they got so much opposition only proved that the children needed to learn how to get along across Houses!

But another thing that was rapidly becoming apparent was that the majority of the children that were dissatisfied and fighting were Gryffindor and Slytherin. She should have predicted that, and in fact she had, but considering Malfoy's reluctance to even talk to her, she couldn't really do anything about it at this time. She could only wait and vainly hope that the problems would disappear on their own.

* * *

By the time the next weekend came, Hermione was exhausted. She had no idea why she'd ever thought taking a sabbatical from her regular life in order to teach for a year would be peaceful when it was anything but. She was in fact so completely drained that on Friday afternoon she went for a nap, and that nap lasted until Saturday morning. After a big breakfast, Hermione then marked her students' work and adjusted her lesson plan, completely freeing up her Sunday.

Feeling rather pleased with herself for being so productive, she hesitantly went down to the staffroom. She'd avoided it ever since she'd ogled Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, but she rather wanted company. Fortunately, Malfoy wasn't there and Darius was, and he at least seemed pleased to see her.

"I was afraid Malfoy had scared you off for good," he said.

Hermione grimaced. "He does that a lot?"

"Yes."

Then maybe he didn't simply hate her. That was some small consolation, she supposed. "So, what are you doing?" she asked, sitting down.

"Boring myself." Darius frowned at the gadget of the week. "This here is rather useless."

"You didn't make the Muggle stereo work yet?"

"No, not yet." He sighed. "Who am I kidding? None of it ever works, and the castle is always far too quiet when the children aren't running about."

Hermione blinked. She'd never before seen Darius in a bad mood and she didn't really know how to cheer him up. "Then let's go somewhere that isn't as quiet?" she suggested.

He glanced at her. "What? Hogsmeade?"

"Why not?"

"I told you that I'm not all that welcome down at The Three Broomsticks."

"Then we'll go to The Hog's Head."

"I can't bring a respectable witch to Hog's Head."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh, please. I visited it several times as a teenager. It can't have got that much worse."

He snorted. "It certainly didn't get better."

Hermione mock-pouted at him. "I can't believe I'm asking you out and you're turning me down!"

At that he quirked an eyebrow. "You're asking me out? What, on a date? And you want it to go to The Hog's Head?"

She sighed overly dramatically. "Never mind. Just a thought."

He shot her a dubious look whilst scratching his head. "You're as bored as I am, aren't you?"

She could barely suppress her amusement at that highly accurate assessment. "Maybe a little bit."

Apparently her ploy to cheer him up and alleviate her own boredom had worked because his face broke into a grin. "Ok. We'll go to The Hog's Head. But don't say I didn't warn you. Come on."

She jumped to her feet. "Wait! Can I go and get ready first?"

"It's The Hog's Head. What's to get ready for?"

"Going out?" Now she grinned at him.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes and shook his head. "Right. I forgot how you suddenly decided after weeks and weeks of being perfectly uninterested in me that we should go out on a date. To The Hog's Head."

She tilted her head and couldn't help but tease, "You keep saying that name, I'm going to think that you're growing fond of it."

He snorted at her again. "Are you getting ready, or..?"

"Certainly." She began moving towards the door. "What do you think I should wear to blend in?"

He stared at her for a moment and then blinked. "You... ah... I don't think you want to blend in."

"Why not?"

"You might catch a cold."

"Why--oh. Huh." She scrunched up her nose. "I don't think I brought anything like that."

"That is your main concern?" He stared at her.

She shot him a brilliant smile. "I'll see what I can dig up!"

Then she hurried up to her room to get ready.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Hermione was all but flying down the stairs, even chancing a wild jump when they suddenly decided to shift. She hadn't meant to take quite that long to get ready, but first she'd had to work out what to wear, and then there were shoes and hair and make-up and jewellery and perfume and... ok, maybe she'd gone a bit overboard--even using spells to at least temporarily make a few of her accessories more feminine--but she was so sick of feeling like some kind of machine. She was tired of never having any fun. She hated feeling like her life was already over.

Darius was fun . She only hoped he'd bothered to wait for her.

She stumbled on a step and had a fright as she almost fell face first down stairs long and steep enough to break anyone's neck, but at the last second, she managed to grab onto the banister and right herself. Maybe she wasn't quite in that much of a hurry. Finishing the stairs at a more leisurely pace, she was relieved to see that Darius was waiting for her down by the doors. She drew up the hood of her cloak just as he saw her coming down.

He didn't comment on the wait. "Ready?" he simply asked, and she nodded.

They walked most of the way in silence but as they passed The Three Broomsticks, Darius hesitated.

"I suppose we could go in," he said. "I mean, I don't believe they'll deny me service. And most people don't know me at all."

She grabbed his arm and tugged. "No, let's do what we planned." She was far from eager to run into Malfoy anyway. It would go against her mission to feel pretty and happy to have him make snide remarks at her.

Darius reluctantly followed, and when they reached The Hog's Head, she began to see what he'd been going on about. Simply looking from the outside, she hadn't quite remembered that the windows were that grimy. It didn't get any better on the inside. The floor was made of packed dirt--even though there were supposedly floor boards underneath--and nothing looked like it had ever seen soap. Including the patrons. She had to suppress a shudder.

"Not too late to turn back," Darius said. She might've taken him up on that if he hadn't looked so bloody amused.

Instead she stuck her nose in the air and walked in like she owned the place. When she found a table, she released the clasp on her cloak and discreetly covered her chair with it before sitting down and looking expectantly at Darius, who was simply staring at her.

"What?" She was feeling defensive and scowled at him before glancing down her own front. Her dress was, in fact, quite modest. Then again, he'd been staring at her face. Had her lipstick smudged? She reached for the mirror in her handbag, but upon closer inspection still saw nothing wrong. She scowled at him. "What?"

He finally seemed to snap out of it and smoothly sat down on the other chair belonging to the sticky table she'd chosen. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't believe I've ever seen you look quite that... pretty... before."

She frowned. Was that even a compliment? "Thank you?"

"No, that sounded wrong. I'm sorry. I'm... just..." He grimaced. "I'm just so very suave, as you can probably tell."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "I'd expect nothing less from a gentleman taking me to such a refined establishment," she teased.

He didn't laugh as she'd expected. Instead he said, "You really haven't seemed all that interested in me, but now I admit I'm a little confused."

Suddenly this began to seem a lot more complicated than she wanted it to be. "We're friends, right?" she ventured, fighting back a wince at how weak that sounded. She very much liked Darius, but she was still trying to get over her ex. She wasn't ready to even consider being with someone else for anything but a bit of fun. Darius seemed like the sort of man who might get hurt by any 'bit of fun' that went beyond friends, so she had no intentions of taking it further.

"Yes, of course." His expression was fairly unreadable for a moment, but then he cracked one of his regular teasing smiles. "Then what can I get you? I hear their filthy mugs really add to the taste."

She couldn't help the way her toes curled in disgust at that mental imagery. "Er. Don't they have some bottled ale or something? Butterbear? Anything nobody's actually touched, thank you."

This time he laughed out loud and promised to do his best to find something she could safely drink.

As Darius left her alone to get drinks, Hermione idly looked around. The atmosphere here was quite different from over at the Three Broomsticks. When people laughed here, it was a far cruder sound. When they talked, it was louder and meaner. Even the background music from the Wizarding Wireless Network somehow seemed rougher and more jarring.

It was all worth it, though, simply to avoid--

She froze. Someone blond had entered. No, that had to be a coincidence. There must be other blond wizards--even with that slightly shaggy haircut. He turned and she couldn't quite suppress a groan. The chance of other wizards having the exact same face were probably rather low. What was Malfoy even doing here? Why wouldn't he go to the pub where he had a thing with the barmaid?

He looked up and spotted her, and she immediately looked away, searching for Darius instead. Darius was making his way back, but also seemed to have spotted Malfoy.

"Interesting," Darius said, placing a bottle in front of her and taking his seat again. "Didn't expect to see him here. But from the look on your face, neither did you. That explains a lot about tonight actually." He took a swig from his own bottle.

"Is it really that much of a surprise if I want to avoid him?" she muttered.

"No, not at all. He seems to turn a special kind of unpleasant around you. I'd avoid him too."

"Then what?"

"I don't have magic, Hermione, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I've seen the way you look at him. You very much wish he were nicer to you."

"Of course I wish he were nicer to me!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He made that statement far too matter-of-factly.

She looked away, her cheeks burning. Did everyone know, then? Why did they even care? Her interest was harmless. It had simply been far too long since she'd had any 'bit of fun' and Draco Malfoy very much seemed like the type who could supply that kind of fling. But he hated her and had recoiled the one time he'd kissed her, so it was very high on the list of Most Unlikely Things To Ever Happen.

"I think I've said it before but it bears repeating--you're far too good for him."

"Yes, well, maybe I don't want to be," she muttered. She had only meant for it to be a personal observation, but from the startled look on Darius's face, he'd heard. Oops. "I-I only mean," she said, trying to save face, "it's not always easy to live up to the idealised image people have of me."

He shot her a thoughtful look and then slowly said, "If you want to go and talk to him, then by all means..."

"No! I was avoiding him, remember? And I'm here with you."

"As friends. And I manage quite well without a babysitter."

"That's not--"

"Besides, if ever there was a time to get him out of your system, it's now. He must be quite desperate for a diversion to be here."

That stung and she could think of nothing to say but, "Thanks."

Darius made a growling sound. "He's not exactly a fan of yours, Hermione, whether you like it or not. Some of us would feel very lucky to get the interest of a witch of your calibre, but not him. Might as well be realistic about it. Looking like that, he would probably have you, but he wouldn't be grateful. Not in the least. And he'd toss you out afterwards." Darius got to his feet, finishing his ale.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back."

"But--"

"We'll have to do this some other time. From the way he noticed us too, it looks like tonight I'm only going to be a prop in your little play and I'm really not in the mood for that. Good luck whatever you choose to do, yeah? See you tomorrow." Then he left.

Hermione was left staring down at her hands, her entire evening gone down the drain. And why did Darius have to sound like this happened a lot with witches around Malfoy?

"Lover's quarrel?" a dry and all too familiar voice asked. "I have to say I'm surprised. I'd have thought someone as simple as Dorky would be easy to keep happy. What does that say about you?"

Her fists clenched. He couldn't ever stop doing that, could he? She got to her feet, picked up her cloak, and then she fled the pub.

* * *

Hermione didn't really have a plan for where she was going, she simply couldn't stand being near Malfoy at the moment. Nor did she want to completely lose face by showing up at the school mere minutes after Darius. So instead of going to the main road, she ran the opposite way, entering a part of Hogsmeade she'd never been in before. The buildings here were lower, darker, and the road narrowed into little more than a path. The shops had names that Hermione had never seen before, and they seemed to be carrying rather... odd... things at times.

Obviously she'd entered a less savoury part of town.

At this very moment, however, she didn't care. All she wanted was to keep moving. She couldn't go back to her rooms yet. Sitting at home, staring at a wall, was too depressing and she couldn't do it any longer. She wanted to be out and about. Even if that meant only taking a brisk walk through the worst part of Hogsmeade after all the effort she'd put into her looks.

She heard a sound behind her and froze in her tracks, her fingers closing around her wand. "Show yourself," she said, turning around.

"Scared?" Malfoy calmly asked from the shadows. "Then this is the wrong place for you to be."

She huffed out a breath and let go of the wand. "I'll be fine. No one's here." She turned her back on him again, meaning to go on, but his voice stopped her.

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "People around these parts are nothing if not good at hiding and watching. You're not safe. Go back to the main road."

She sniffed, quite put out with him tonight. "I'm not safe? Then what about you? Or are you the kind of man that thinks your mighty penis will protect you?"

He laughed. It was a soft but mirthless sound. "I'm protected by my deeds, witch," he then said.

"Your deeds? You never killed anyone. You never did much of anything, really. If anything, I have more deeds to my name."

"Trust me, your morals would prevent you from any act that would earn their respect. I have no morals left and you have no idea what I've become capable of. I repeat, go back to the main road."

"Why don't you simply leave me?"

"You don't want to know what will happen if I leave you."

She eyed the buildings around her. If he was telling the truth, then it was likely that the only reason she hadn't encountered anyone yet was because of his presence. How annoying. In some places it truly didn't matter that she was Hermione Granger, War Hero and close friend of Harry Potter. She could be overpowered and silenced if enough people wished to hurt her. If someone they respected or feared on another level was here, however... but someone all bark and no bite like Draco wouldn't be that person, would he?

Abruptly, she turned around and began walking back, passing Malfoy on her way.

"You're welcome," he breathed.

She whirled on him, her teeth bared. "You expect me to be thankful for you ruining my evening?!"

"Certainly, if your idea of a nice evening out is to walk into a seedy part of town and--"

"You know very well that's not what I meant!"

He frowned. "So you blame your lover boy leaving on my very presence?"

"Why were you even there?"

"Because I'm free to go wherever I please, Granger. I hardly expected you either."

"And why, when seeing me upset, was your first instinct to try to upset me further? Can't you simply leave me be? I stopped trying to talk to you, what more could you possibly want?!"

He looked at her quietly for a while before saying, "You're right. I should remember that your presence isn't meant as an insult to me."

She stared at him. Simply stared. He was never going to apologise or even act like a compassionate human being, was he? "Why did you kiss me?" she quietly asked.

His expression was nothing if not closed. "I don't believe we need to discuss that."

"Oh, but we do. If you hate me so much, why did you do it?"

He grimaced. "I knew you'd misinterpret it. Good girls always do."

'Good girls'? Right then she hated that label more than anything and she burned to tell him that, but she knew he'd only laugh at her and tell her that she had no idea what it was like to be bad. Like she didn't have secrets as deep and dark and shameful as he, or probably anyone in this part of town, did. She gritted her teeth to keep all that in and only said, "Then set me straight."

"It's fairly simple, actually. I have a weakness when it comes to women. Physically. I merely did what I would normally do with a woman because I was too pissed to stop myself in time."

"Fine. Let's say that's the truth. Why does it matter so much that it was me? Why was there even a need to stop? You didn't seem to hate it."

He paused as if taken aback that she would so boldly show her disappointment in his rejection. It almost made her laugh out loud. What exactly did he think she was risking? "You're not my kind of witch," he finally said, his words so soft that coming from another person she might have believed he cared about her feelings.

She took a deep breath. Interestingly enough, his words didn't hurt in the least. She'd been expecting them. And somehow, the fact that he was acting exactly as she'd expected calmed her. "You know what I think?" she quietly asked.

"No, but I suspect that I will in a few moments."

The corners of her mouth drew up in a sardonic smile that didn't feel like her. "I still think you fear me more than you hate me, and now I think I know why."

"I'm sure you do."

"I think you like me." For a moment he only stared, and that moment was all she needed to push on. "I think it terrifies you to think about what that could mean. I think the thought of being kind to me, kissing me, getting intimate with me, is positively petrifying to you, because you have no idea what could happen. You'd much rather destroy yourself than give anyone else the power to destroy you."

The darkness shielded his expression too well for her to properly read it, but he was standing very, very still. "Rather dramatic tonight, aren't we?" he finally said in a patronising tone. "Not to mention perhaps a bit full of ourselves."

Again, nothing she hadn't expected. The dark smile that was feeling more like a grimace intensified and she took a step towards him. "Prove it."

"And how does someone prove something like that?"

"You could kiss me without going into a panic. It's dark here, so you won't even have to look at me."

He tensed. "Look, Hermione..." He cut off and muttered a few foul words. "Granger. I find this... dare... to be rather childish."

"Yes, certainly much more childish than your constant need to verbally put me down."

"Obviously you must like it."

Her dark smile turned into an even darker laugh. "Not accepting the challenge, then? I thought so." She turned her back on him and began walking towards the main road again.

For quite a while, she didn't hear him following, but then she heard the rustling of clothes and the hurried steps signalling that he was gaining on her with a vengeance. He probably wanted to yell at her some more. She was beyond caring and merely kept walking. Then suddenly she was grabbed and shoved into the narrow space between two buildings, momentarily frightening her and making her think it was someone else. When she looked up, however, it was him. Only, he looked angrier than she could remember ever seeing him.

"A challenge?" he spat. "Fine. Don't come crying to me."

Then he bent down and she steeled herself for something hard, punishing, bruising, and far from pleasant. A kiss that would be designed to stop her from ever wanting more of them from him. A warning not to challenge him again. As he lowered his head, she had to work very hard not to pull away. She refused to flinch!

But the hard kiss never came. Instead she got warm, firm lips pressing against her own as his hand moved up to cradle her neck. The difference from what she expected stunned her into standing completely still as he ran his thumb over her lower lip and lightly press it down, before he kissed her again, deeper this time.

Pure, searing lust shot through her, making her dizzy as he touched his tongue to hers. She instinctively arched into him although she tried to stay at least a little mentally detached so it wouldn't completely blindside her when he stopped and delivered a cruel comment. That had to be his plan. She could imagine no other reason that he would... he would... how had her fingers suddenly found his hair? It was so soft. A little tangled, though, so when she buried her fingers deeply to comb through it, she accidentally pulled hard enough to make him curse. Well, that served him right for kissing her like... like he meant it! He drew back a bit, but she wouldn't have it and pulled him closer again to tease his lower lip. He groaned against her mouth and lifted her up to grind against her, proving that he most certainly wasn't unaffected.

Good. Maybe he'd be the one to heed the warning, then.

Rather suddenly, however, he let go of her body to grab her wrists and pull her hands off him as he stepped back. She fought a pout and instead merely looked at him, waiting for the killing blow.

He cleared his throat and looked away for a second as if to compose himself, but then the most ominous smirk slowly appeared on his face. "Really, Granger?" he asked a little hoarsely. "You want to get into that here?"

A blush stained on her cheeks as she realised what he meant. They were in some kind of alley, which she couldn't see very clearly, but it was now slowly occurring to her that the place reeked of all sorts of waste. She stubbornly stuck up her nose at him. "I was merely obliging you, as I thought this was your style."

At that his smirk widened. "I'm sure our onlookers appreciate that." He nodded towards the end of the alley where she only barely could make out the grey outline of one person in a doorway and another one in a second floor window.

So he'd had his whole stage set up. "You knew they were there."

"Of course. I already told you. They're good at hiding and watching. They probably think you're from the brothel around the corner."

Hermione wished she could say she was surprised, but she wasn't. Crushingly disappointed that he'd only kissed her like that for show, yes. Surprised, no. This was exactly what she'd expected and, frankly, exactly what she deserved for goading him into kissing her in spite of himself. "Of course. And that explains what you were doing around these parts, doesn't it?" she said, before she very deliberately stuck her nose in the air and turned her back on him to make her way back to the castle.

* * *

Back at the castle and inside her office, Hermione closed the door and then leaned on it, trying to work through what had just happened. She simply couldn't figure it out. She couldn't figure him out. Why did he insist on treating her horribly at every turn and then kiss her like that? It was becoming more and more apparent that the problem really wasn't her, it was him. She'd been right that he was deliberately trying to push her away. She might even have been right about why. One thing was for certain, if she'd been right about why, he was only going to get worse from now on. He would be ruthless. Especially if he thought it was working.

She heard Malfoy's firm footfall moving past her door. She didn't know if he knew where her office and quarters were located--although she was fairly certain he did--but walking past her office was the fastest way for him to get to his own rooms. She'd always wondered why he had his office here on the sixth floor, but had yet to manage to ask someone without seeming a bit too interested. She knew why she was here--as nothing but a temporary replacement she hadn't wished to invade what had seemed like such a personal space, so she'd gone to McGonagall and requested to be put somewhere else. The request had been granted, but Hermione had been warned that all the best offices were in use even if the private rooms that came with them weren't always. If she didn't like being so close to Malfoy--a factor of unpleasantness that McGonagall had actually addressed--the next office in line in terms of comfort would be one on the second floor, which had fallen into disrepair some years ago. So far Hermione had been perfectly comfortable up here. Malfoy kept to himself most of the time and the rooms up here were actually even a bit bigger than the regular Arithmancy professor's had been.

She heard Malfoy's door open and close. And then there was silence. Nothing but silence. She didn't even know how long she stood like this, listening to nothing and feeling like she was going deaf.

Finally she'd had it, and before she could consider what she was doing and why, she'd opened her own door and marched over to knock on his. She half-expected him to either ignore her or yell at her to go away, but he didn't. He opened the door as if he'd been expecting her.

He probably had, the prat.

She stared at his politely distant face, willing herself to speak but not quite managing it. Finally, she simply gave up and turned to leave. He'd probably just be horribly mean no matter what she said anyway.

She'd only taken a single step when she felt his fingers close around her arm and she was pulled into the room, stumbling a bit as he let go and the momentum brought her further. She blinked as she experienced that slight shift in her vision she sometimes got around him, and then whirled around. "Malfoy! What on earth do y--"

He closed the gap between them in few long steps, and then covered her mouth with his. Her eyes widened even as his warmth and scent had an almost hypnotic effect on her. Damn her for reacting so strongly to him. It wasn't fair! What was he up to now? She'd thought she knew his game, but this was quite unprecedented, to say the least. He drew back, but quite fed up with him, she decided not to let him have all the control, and used all her might to pull him back. He clearly hadn't been expecting it and stumbled against her, forcing her to take a few steps back to not lose her own balance. And then, suddenly, he was back in control, guiding her until she felt his desk hit the back of her thighs. She gasped as he lifted her up to sit on it, his lips moving over her cheek and down her neck whilst he was deftly running his hands up her thighs, bringing her dress with them. It was rapidly becoming hard for her to even think coherently. Even if he didn't mean it, he had such a talented mouth. And hands. The merest brush of his hand against her thigh had her swallow a whimper.

It really was unfair. How could he be such a prat and still make her want him so desperately? He was probably only playing with her. As usual.

"Malfoy, what--?!" she valiantly tried once more.

"Hush," he muttered against her skin, making her blood hum with want.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. "No, explain."

"You came looking for this, didn't you?" He pushed her back until she was lying down flat on the desk beneath him. Oh, Merlin, it felt nice. No, it felt perfect. It felt right. It felt like exactly what she needed tonight. It even felt... familiar.

"No... I didn't..." she weakly protested. The truth was, she had no idea what she'd been looking for.

"Couldn't just leave me alone to wank in peace, could you? You had to come here, had to haunt me some more." He pulled off his own shirt, leaving her to stare at that chest she'd been lusting for and that necklace of his that seemed to show the current phase of the moon. It was glowing faintly white in the semi-darkness of the room.

"Not a werewolf, are you?" she asked, a bit apprehensive.

He laughed. It was a bitter sound. "No. Strictly a curiosity that's sometimes handy for potion brewing. You won't have to panic if I bite you." He bent to nibble at a strangely particular sensitive spot at the base of her neck, making her moan and cling onto him before she could catch herself.

His hands never still, he'd almost divested her of all of her clothes before she could think of anything else to say. Yet when she felt the clasp on her bra give way, she couldn't help holding onto the small protection that piece of garment gave her.

He hissed. "Don't change your mind. Not now. Not after you've already driven me beyond sanity with all your little looks and those lips. Merlin, those lips..."

"Then be honest with me. Why do you suddenly want me?" She was pushing it. She'd die if he decided to stop.

"It's not sudden," he whispered. "I just... I'm going to burn for this. I don't care. It's what you want, isn't it? Can't be too bad if you want it..."

Then he kissed her so hungrily that she forgot all the new questions she now had, before he trailed his lips and tongue down over her neck, her slowly bared breasts, her stomach... She grabbed onto him and pulled his head back up for another kiss and he obliged, before trying to kiss his way down again. She froze and dug her fingers into his arms, stopping him.

Finally catching on, he stared down at her with a frown. "Still?" he quietly said.

She didn't understand what he meant by that so her only response was a blank look.

He grimaced and then nuzzled her neck. "Let me taste you..."

A mix of excitement and dread was roiling around in her stomach. "No..."

He leaned back to pin her with a gaze that saw too much. "Nobody ever bothered?"

"That's none of your business!" she indignantly replied. She drew up one of her legs, caressing his calf with her foot as she did so. "There are other things I want more..." She knew her eyes told him exactly how much she wanted it, how much she needed it.

He didn't need her to tell him twice. Abandoning his first plan, he instead slid one of his hands down inside her knickers whilst caressing her breasts, particularly her nipples, with his lips and tongue and breath.

It was maddening. She twisted and squirmed under him either to get away from him to ease the intensity or get closer to magnify it--she wasn't honestly certain which option she wanted more--as the feeling grew to impossible proportions. Yet this wasn't what she'd asked for, so she bucked up against him and grabbed onto the buttons at the front of his trousers, eager to remove them. He neither helped nor hindered her but simply continued with his own agenda to melt her brains. With shaking hands it took a little bit longer than it otherwise would, but she finally managed to open his trousers and shove them and his underwear off. He hardly even seemed to make a note of it. Yet when she grabbed hold of the erection that sprang free, he tensed and a pained sound escaped his lips. Delighted at his response, she began caressing him with a firm hold, up and down, stroking, squeezing...

Abruptly her hand was removed, but before she could complain he'd entwined their fingers and brought her hands above her head whilst silencing her rather effectively with a kiss that made the whole room spin. Once he seemed satisfied that she was compliant, he let go of one of her hands to tuck at her knickers. She eagerly helped him, lifting her bum and feeling rather gratified at his moan as their hips connected for a moment. Then he tore her knickers the rest of the way off and suddenly, they were both completely naked. Her eyes widened and her breath caught as she felt the warm, smooth skin of his erection against her naked flesh.

She'd half-expected him to immediately drive into her, but he didn't. At first she thought he was merely prolonging the pleasure, but then she realised--he was hesitating. Lust and guilt were warring on his face and the guilt seemed to be winning, even making room for regret.

Oh, no, you don't!

She was tired of him treating her like someone who was untouchable. She had absolutely no idea where he'd picked up the notion that she wouldn't be able to handle having sex with him, but she'd had it with that. She'd had a rough time lately and all she wanted was to get laid! Was that really too much to ask?

Before he could completely change his mind, she freed her one hand and reached down to grab him again, in a firm hold, caressing the indent right under the head with her thumb. It was enough to make him shiver, but when he didn't immediately resume his earlier activities, she resumed hers with long, firm caresses, making sure that he felt all of her nakedness pressed against him. And she lifted her head to kiss him, deeply. Because she wanted to.

It didn't take long before he tried to still her hand and pull away from the kiss, but she wouldn't have it. She didn't care if this was all she was allowed, she would have something, damn it. She needed it. Needed to feel passion, to feel desired, to lose all control and make someone lose theirs. She needed to feel like she was still alive.

Gasping, he stopped her more forcefully, grabbing her hand hard and pulling it away. "You have to stop," he whispered.

It was almost too much to bear. "Why?" she replied. "Don't you want me at all?"

He swallowed and closed his eyes in a pained expression. "I do," he then said. "I-I can't stop this... I need to be inside you just one last time. So badly. Just once. I know I shouldn't allow it, but..."

"You should."

He shook his head. "You couldn't possibly understand." Then he kissed her again, and finally, finally he was entering her.

Her arms instinctively went around him and to clutch at his back. It had been a while and it hurt a little, but she merely bit her lip to keep from crying out and waited for the discomfort to pass, unwilling to say or do anything that might make him reconsider this.

"Amazing," he choked. "Of course..."

Immensely relieved and gratified that he wasn't mocking her during sex, she wrapped her legs more firmly around him and began moving experimentally under him, getting used to the feeling and wanting more.

He groaned deeply. "No, Hermione, can't you just be passive for once?" She couldn't help but laugh at that, so he shot her a dark look and muttered, "Suppose not!"

Then he began moving rather forcefully above her, completely obliterating anything that could've passed for a coherent thought as her mind couldn't contain anything but the pure bliss of the friction and the way he touched her, the way his lips kept returning to that one spot at the base of her neck with what was first light nibbling, but as her passions rose and his movements became faster, he sucked that spot at the base of her neck harder and harder until she was helpless to do anything but come, loudly, shouting out her pleasure.

"Hurt me," he grunted in her ear. "Scratch, bite... something."

She experimentally dug her fingers into his back, but her nails were short, so it didn't have much of an impact. Instead she tried nibbling his ear, but she couldn't bring herself to bite hard.

He snorted a breathless little laugh. "Cute. Never mind, then..."

That annoyed her, and she pulled down his head to kiss him, but when she had him distracted she bit down on his lower lip so hard she could taste blood. She immediately let go, shocked at what she'd done. He cried out and she thought she'd crossed the line until she realised that he was moving faster and more erratically and he was asking for more, more, more, please... So she dug her fingers hard into his back and raked her teeth over his collarbone until she found a good spot and then she chomped down.

His eyes rolled back and he came, losing himself so completely that Hermione could feel nothing but pure gratification as she watched his bliss and felt him collapse on top of her.

At some point Hermione seemed to have completely forgotten exactly how good it felt to have a man on top of her. The weight, the scent, the feeling of him still inside her... Suddenly it hit her once more exactly how much she missed Ron, and she had to make an effort to keep her feelings under control so Malfoy wouldn't get the wrong idea and think she regretted it. It wouldn't do to make him think that he'd made the wrong decision in sleeping with her after she'd been so insistent. Any sudden melancholy aside, she'd truly needed this.

Malfoy didn't stay unmoving for long. As soon as he seemed to have his breathing back under control, he eased off her and put his underwear back on without even looking at her. She'd have felt more annoyed about being ignored if she hadn't seen how his movements were a bit unsteady and his face was drawn. For once he didn't appear to be mean to her simply because he could. He seemed genuinely upset about what had happened between them. She didn't understand. He hadn't seemed to find her that awful only moments before if his begging had been any indication.

"Put on your clothes and leave," he hoarsely said, still without looking at her. "You got what you wanted. Now please pretend this never happened."

It wasn't the time to argue, she was far too naked for that, so she slid off the desk to her feet and bent to get her own underwear only to flinch when her abdomen objected to the movement. She was so sore inside out. It had been far too long since last time and he hadn't exactly been gentle with her. The movement drew Malfoy's attention and his gaze landed on her thighs before his face turned ashen and he actually swayed a little before grabbing onto the edge of the desk to hold himself up.

She looked down, puzzled about his reaction, and spotted blood on her thigh. Ah. He certainly was squeamish about certain things, wasn't he? "Relax," she said, her voice much calmer than she would have thought possible. "It's not that time of the month if that's what's making you feel sick. I suppose you gave me a little scratch or something. You were rather rough, you know." Then she too began putting on clothes.

He didn't respond, didn't give any indication he'd heard her at all, only stood there for a while and then, rather suddenly, pushed away from the desk and went to the door to his private rooms without looking at her again or collecting the rest of his clothes. There he hesitated. "Your neck..." he finally said. "You need to heal it. Or cover it up. It will bruise and attract attention. We could both get sacked if found out." Without another word, he entered his rooms and quietly closed the door behind himself.

She refused to be hurt. She refused. But whether he wanted to repeat this or not in the future, she would damn well make him face and resolve whatever issues he had with her because this was intolerable.

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Secrets, Chapter 4/15

2013-01-27T01:22:04Z

Title: Secrets
Series: Silencio
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit derivative work based on the world and characters of J. K. Rowling.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut
Main Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Story Warnings: Dubious Consent, Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Psychological Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nine years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione decides to take a holiday from her life to work out who she is and what she wants to do with herself. She soon gets the feeling that Draco Malfoy might be the key to her salvation, but Draco seems to be consumed by a need to keep secrets that are destroying him and does not want her interfering. Armed with a determination to save someone who doesn't want to be saved, she sets out to see how he might fit into the oddly shaped puzzle that is her life.
Credit: Thank you to dollfaced and mazvn for the comprehensive beta and filigree1 for the Britpick. Extra thank you to dollfaced for the banner.
Chapter Length: 7,899

* * *

Draco was trying very hard to bite back his frustration as he was pleading with the woman in front of him. Fresh out of bed, she was clad in a sensible nightgown and her hair was down, making her look much younger than she usually did wearing her cap and nurse's robes. She was very competent at what she did, although coming from a long line of various Healers and nurses--and with a name like Aloe Vera--he didn't suppose she'd had much choice in the matter. The title of 'Madam' was in Draco's estimation earned twice over, and he didn't mean that as a compliment.

"Please," he said when she didn't stop staring at the faded but still ugly and discoloured scar on his arm. "It really does hurt."

"Take off your robes," she said, and he complied. "Do any of your other scars hurt?" she asked, moving her wand along his torso to his back, examining all of the history he would prefer to forget. She moved back round to the front, hesitating for only the fraction of a second at the barely visible scar from a bite on his shoulder, but not commenting.

He was very grateful that she didn't comment. He didn't have the energy for even that. When she stood back in front of him, he sat down on the closest bed in a calculated move to appear more vulnerable. He wasn't lying about the pain in his arm, but he'd found that telling this woman the truth wasn't always enough to get what he wanted. Sometimes he had to embellish a bit.

"No. Just that one," he said.

"That old mark of yours can't hurt, Draco. It's dead tissue. That is, unless you think..." She hesitated. And with good reason, too. Nobody ever liked to bring up that particular possibility.

"The Dark Lord isn't back," he calmly said. "I already checked it for any signs of active magic like I always do. There is none. It just... hurts. It burns. Like fire and acid."

"I hate to say it, Draco, but if there is any pain, then it's probably just... well..."

"Another symptom of me having the crazies?"

"Don't talk like that."

"But it's what you meant, isn't it?" He couldn't quite conceal his bitterness. They all saw him as either crazy or broken or both. They all both feared him and pitied him and he was quite sick of it. What he wouldn't give to simply be a person again.

"Just because your pain is rooted in something psychological rather than something physiological doesn't mean that it's to be scoffed at and called 'the crazies'. Have you been taking that other potion I gave you?"

He snorted, actually a little amused at that question. "What? The one that made me constantly drowsy yet unable to sleep, and also quite unable to... perform, whether it be in the classroom or in bed? That potion? No, thank you."

"I know the initial side effects can seem quite severe--"

"Can't you simply give me something for the pain like I asked?"

She sighed. "You know I can't."

Draco wasn't surprised, but disappointment still burned through him almost rivalling the pain in his arm. "Then how about something to help me sleep?"

"You know my rules. If you want something to help you sleep, you have to sleep up here where I can keep an eye on you. I can ready a bed for you--"

"For fuck's sake, Vera. Can't you just... help me for once?"

Her golden brown eyes looked so wounded that he almost regretted his outburst. Almost. "I am helping you," she quietly said. "You know as well as I do that giving you what you're asking for will hurt you far more than it will help you."

"That one time was an accident. It won't happen again."

"No, you're right it won't. I'm here to see that you have no more 'accidents'."

"I'm not suicidal. I miscalculated, that's all."

"And when I took your potions from you, you had such awful withdrawal symptoms that I had to keep you up here for a week and monitor you for a long time after that. It would have caused that scandal you so wish to avoid and you certainly wouldn't have a position here any longer if I hadn't told the Headmistress that it was the flu."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm grateful for what you did, but it's not what you think. It never was."

"Self-medication isn't that uncommon, Draco. Unfortunately, your skill with making your own potions merely gave you stronger things to work with."

"And it worked beautifully until you got me banned from getting most of the supplies," he muttered.

"You simply be grateful that Professor Slughorn was willing to assist in this matter, or I would have had no choice but to reveal everything for your own good."

"Yes, yes, my own good." He didn't even try to hide his bitterness any longer.

"Yes! Your own good! And you will not bully me, Draco Malfoy. Now. I'm sorry that the other potion isn't working for you, but there are other similar options and--"

"No."

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

He had to blink at that. That was quite a scoff, coming from the stern but always mild-mannered Madam Vera. "I'm serious," he insisted. "I don't want any of those potions."

"They come as pills and powders as well."

"Now I know you're only missing the point to irritate me."

"You need treatment, Draco. But not for the pain in your arm. The pain in your soul is much worse, and since you refuse to talk to anyone about it..."

"...You're simply going to suppress the few joys I do have? Where's the logic in that?"

"That one was a bad fit. I'm sure we can find a better one for you."

"And I'm sure that I don't need it. I'm fine except for the pain in my arm." And a few pains in my neck.

"Then I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do for you." She turned her back on him and disappeared back into her private area.

Draco scowled, but he knew when he wasn't going to get anywhere. Lovely. Another sleepless night was already taking its toll on him, and now he was expected to tolerate this pain for an unknown duration? He could already tell it would be a marvellous day. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and pulled his robe back over his head, absent-mindedly adjusting it as he walked towards the doors leading from the Hospital Wing. He was no more than two steps away from them when one door suddenly swung open and he was nearly run down.

"Oh!" Granger said, and then her eyes widened as she took him in. "Oh..."

"Be right with you!" Vera called from behind him and came out from her quarters, fastening her robes.

Granger's mouth dropped open, and it didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what was going through her head. Draco's own hair was still a bit messy from pulling on his robes, and Vera hadn't put hers up yet. Draco couldn't help but grin. Granger really did think he'd shag anyone, didn't she? Well, he supposed he might've gone for Vera if she hadn't been so forbidding at times. And if she'd cared for male companionship at all.

Granger didn't seem to realise that, though, since she was currently doing her best impression of a fish, and Draco was in the mood to make trouble. "Always a pleasure, Aloe," he smoothly said, "but it seems like I'd best be going now."

Vera shot him a semi-annoyed glance as she wasn't particularly fond of her own first name or anyone using it, but merely said, "Do come back tonight, Draco, and I'll see about fixing a bed up for you."

Her response couldn't have been any more perfect, and Draco left with a huge grin on his face.

* * *

In spite of the brief burst of humour in the morning, Draco soon found that his day was becoming every bit as miserable as he'd predicted. The students were annoying; he bored himself during his classes; when he made it to lunch only his least favourite foods were left; he became more and more exhausted; and his damn arm hurt like hell.

The sideways glances Granger was sending him weren't helping. She had a growing fascination with him, it didn't take a genius to figure that much out. He'd hoped for weeks now that his constant hostility and apparent whoremongering ways would put her off, but he had to face that they didn't. If anything, she was beginning to look more and more curious. Curious, of all things. He didn't need her to be curious about him. Especially not in the way that some of her looks suggested. She was now part of the reason he was losing sleep. He was rapidly approaching his wits' end concerning what to do about her and how to keep her at an arm's length. She already wouldn't be dissuaded from constantly bothering him about her projects no matter what he did, and now this.

He'd been scared of many things in his life, but nothing terrified him quite as much as Hermione Granger being persistent.

By the end of the day, he'd decided he had two choices. He could either sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop--as in, Granger somehow working everything out and contacting Magical Law Enforcement to have him incarcerated for life--or he could avail himself of the fact that it was Friday and go and distract himself.

He chose distraction.

It was long overdue anyway. Carys, the least clingy girlfriend in the history of relationships, had become worried enough about his absence that she'd actually owled him to hear if everything was all right up at the castle. It wasn't even as if he'd never stayed away for long periods of time before. He had his moods and she respected that. The very fact that she'd been worried enough to owl him said something about exactly how long it had been, and how unstable he'd been lately. He didn't fool himself one bit that people weren't running to Carys with every bit of gossip about him and what he was doing that they could find. She was clever enough to take it all in her stride, fortunately, but he supposed he had been a little bit off even for him lately.

Besides, nothing ever distracted him quite as well from whatever was ailing him as sex. True, sometimes he was in a dark enough mood that he didn't even want sex, but eventually he came around and that was when it was handy to have a girlfriend like Carys. Not that he couldn't get any other offers, but tangling with other witches around these parts would probably get messy rather quickly. Just look at Variel, for one. She claimed she understood him, but it was clear from the way she looked at him that she fancied she could cure everything that was wrong with him and thought everything would then be fluffy kittens, wedding bells and lots of babies.

He might be persuaded to get a cat, but everything else was quite out of the question. He'd tried curing himself via the love of a good woman, and it hadn't worked. It was a ridiculous, unrealistic fantasy, and he wished witches would stop applying it to him. He wasn't some dark and tortured soul who only needed a kiss and a hug to feel all better. He was legitimately fucked up. There was never going to be any way out of this hell that was contained within his own skin, his own brain, for him. He would have to live in it until he died, and Merlin only knew what would await him after that happened. It was quite fortunate that he wasn't a religious man, or he would have been really scared, everything considered.

Carys wasn't like that. She accepted him for who he was and didn't ask for more than he could give. He supposed it was because she in many ways resembled him--except she was a lot nicer--and like him, didn't tend to get tangled up in complicated romantic emotions that did nothing but ruin everything good.

But more importantly than all that--Carys was always ready and willing to distract him with her glorious feminine attributes, and the more he thought about it, the more he was reminded exactly how long it had been since he had last availed himself of that perk. She probably wasn't the least lonely without him, but fortunately for him, she favoured him above everyone else, even if he couldn't quite fathom why.

So tonight he would forget about one Hermione Granger and all the dangers she posed to him, at least for a few hours.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks were crowded, but that was hardly surprising. Draco leisurely made his way in and took his time locating a seat. It wasn't really imperative to find Carys yet. She'd be working until midnight when they closed, anyway. Draco was only here because he felt like he might otherwise fall asleep and then wake up far too late to visit Carys, yet far too early to be productive. At least here the noise should be able to keep him awake.

Not many minutes after he'd sat down, a lovely young witch hesitantly began approaching him, biting her lip and obviously debating whether to speak to him or not. She couldn't be quite out of her teens yet. It was even possible that he'd taught her, although she'd clearly left school by now. Not that it made much of a difference that she was out of school. Minerva McGonagall would have his head--or another body part--if he should dare to dally with one of his former students. Again.

She seemed to have finally worked up the courage when she was rather firmly interrupted. "Oy, off with you. Go and find someone your own age to play with," Carys said to her, taking a seat on Draco's lap. "What took you so long, tiger?"

He couldn't help but snort a laugh at her address, but didn't comment on it. "What was that? I didn't think you were the jealous sort."

"When I don't see you in an age and a half, I'm not about to hand you over to some chit, am I?" She wasn't angry. She was never really angry, except when he didn't want to help fainting witches. Currently her eyes twinkled and her dimples were showing, although she seemed to be trying very hard to suppress her smile.

"Sorry about that," he said, encircling her waist with his arms. "I've been... worse, lately."

"You know not to worry about that," she said, putting her arms around his neck and studying his face. "You look tired. You want to go to my rooms for a nap?" As the current owner of The Three Broomsticks, Carys lived in her own private section of the inn. The proximity would've been more handy if she weren't so insistent on being a responsible owner who didn't sneak away for quickies.

"No, that's fine," he said, although it would probably have been a better idea to accept. "I'll simply wait here until you close up if that's all right with you."

"You know that isn't until midnight."

"I know." He bent forwards to kiss her. "Don't you have thirsty customers to attend to?"

She snorted and got up. "Always. Can I get you anything?"

"Maybe some of your own mead when you can find the time."

Unsurprisingly, he had his mead only a few minutes later, and he then proceeded to spend the next few hours watching his girlfriend work. As always, he was surprised at how she could even do it. How she could constantly be surrounded by loud, drunk, obnoxious people--some of which would very unsubtly attempt to cop a feel--and yet still be so happy and friendly to everyone she talked to. He'd have broken an arm or two by now if it had been him. In fact, he had half a mind to break one certain wizard's arm. Except that might upset Carys. It would be bad for business, and she was nothing if not protective of her business. So the wizard kept his arm unbroken. For now.

* * *

Draco's head was swimming with the lack of sleep, the throbbing in his arm, and a slight excess of mead when Carys finally let them both into her private quarters that night. It wasn't the first time that had happened, though, so he didn't think anything of it, other than to make a mental note not to perform in ways that might make him sick. Being sick during sex was definitely not one of his kinks. He barely allowed them to enter her bedroom before he grabbed her to kiss her and they tumbled towards her bed. She followed every bit as willingly as he'd expected, whilst helping him relieve them of their clothes.

It had been so long since he'd been naked with a woman. So long. Ever since Granger had arrived at Hogwarts, he'd been so busy fretting and he simply hadn't had the energy. But now he was here, and he'd be damned if he'd think of that blasted witch when he had soft, pretty, eager Carys here with him, under him, on him...

Carys tugged at his underwear, but he grabbed her hands and put them on his chest instead. "Not yet," he muttered, kissing her again.

She complied, although she was a bit slow to hide her confused frown. He knew what she was thinking. It had been weeks and he didn't usually go for anyone else, so why wasn't he ready yet? He had absolutely no idea. And now his head was beginning to spin in a rather unpleasant way. Damn it. He really had had too much to drink. No matter, he could work through that. It wasn't like he'd never done it before. He flipped onto his back, and Carys quickly took the cue, straddling him with a knee on either side of his waist, but when she bent down to kiss him, he had to stop her only a moment later, as being on his back didn't make things better as he'd anticipated, but was rather speeding up the spinning of the room.

"Wait," he said with a rather pathetic groan.

She sat back on his thighs, looking extremely puzzled. "You're that drunk on only a few mugs of my mead?"

He didn't know what to reply to that. He should've thought it impossible as well. "Lack of sleep, I suppose," he muttered.

She looked down. "Even so..."

He knew. How could he not know? He wasn't getting the least bit hard tonight. He'd had plenty of sex when feeling sick, or drunk, or tired, or even all three, so why the hell not now?! He wanted to. He really, really, really wanted to. Having sex meant losing oneself in touch, taste and scent until bliss took over, followed by lovely dreamless sleep. It was his favourite way to exorcise the demons, at least for a little while.

Carys bit her lip and then looked him up and down. "I'm sure I can do something about that..." she said in a husky voice.

He sighed. He very much wanted that as well, but it wouldn't be fair to her to get her hopes up. Even though he wanted her to do every naughty thing in the book to him, he simply wasn't rising to the occasion. "Unfortunately, I'm fairly certain you can't," he said. "Not tonight."

She sighed as well and moved off him, instead lying down next to him with her head on his chest. "You should probably see that Hogwarts nurse about the nausea," she said. "You didn't have enough to drink for that. And then there's the... well, that probably won't be a lasting problem. You did seem fairly distracted this evening."

'That Hogwarts nurse' will just diagnose me with more of the crazies. He was too exhausted to talk about his disagreements with Vera or listen to Carys theorise about why he couldn't get hard, though. "You know what? It must be this new potion I'm taking," he lied.

Carys lifted her head. "Potion?"

"Yes. You know. Like that other time."

She pulled back and leaned on her elbow to get a better look at him. "I thought you refused to take more of those potions."

"Vera convinced me to try again." The lie dripped smoothly from his tongue, as they always did. "Obviously this one is every bit as nasty as the last one. I'll stop taking it immediately."

Carys shook her head. "Don't do that."

Draco stared at her. "What?"

"These side-effects could be only temporary, you never know. And even if they aren't... well, it's not the end of the world, is it? There are more important things in life. Like being healthy. You said it yourself--you've been worse lately."

"Does this seem like being healthy to you?" Draco was all incredulous outrage and had half-forgotten that he wasn't actually taking any potions.

"It's at least healthier than... some things." She looked away.

Draco felt a powerful stab of betrayal. He'd thought she accepted him, but wasn't this just a sign that she too wanted to fix him and make him all better to fit her picture of what he should be? "I see," he coldly said. "So it's all about at least giving the appearance that I'm fine, is that it?"

That earned him a glare. "Don't you dare take that tone with me, Draco Malfoy. You know perfectly well that I'll take you any way I can have you. But that does not mean that I enjoy helplessly watching as you shut everyone out and attempt to destroy yourself in whichever way you feel like. Sometimes... I'm so afraid..." She blinked, having a hard time maintaining the stare through the rising tears. "I don't give a fig about appearances. I don't give a fig about a limp noodle. What I do give a fig about is you!"

"And what will you do with me if I can't shag you?" He knew his voice was devoid of emotions, because that was how he felt at the moment--completely detached from the situation. And he really couldn't see what possible benefit there could be to this relationship without sex.

Carys blanched as she took his meaning, but then she shook her head. "Where do I get whatever else you can't give me?" she asked. "Sex, I can actually live without. Certain other things... not so easily." Then she got up and went to the bathroom, where he heard the water come on.

Rather than wait for her to finish so they could talk about all his many shortcomings and how her other lovers made up for them, he left.

* * *

In the days to come, Draco actually began feeling rather bad about how he'd treated Carys. Sometimes he really hated having a conscience. But at the same time, he didn't know what to do about it without making concessions he wasn't quite willing to make. He didn't want to take those potions regularly, and he wasn't up to fulfilling any needs of Carys's that weren't sexual. Up until that night, he'd thought their arrangement was perfect for both of them, but now... it would seem it wasn't. Carys, like almost any other witch out there, needed something from him that he couldn't give. He'd tried before and somehow it simply didn't work. He was broken in that aspect. Even when he had all the right feelings for a witch, he couldn't show them properly. He couldn't express them. He couldn't trust her with his secrets. He certainly couldn't ignore the ever-present pain that ultimately made him too self-absorbed for even the most compassionate witch to handle. They all thought that if only he'd drink more potions, he would be fine, but he knew better. He'd tried the numbing potions, and all it did was making him into some kind of living dead that only felt the pain and the hollowness.

If only it were that easy.

Granger wasn't helping his worsening mood at all. At some point, she'd decided that the thing to do when he scowled at her was to tease and mock, and it drove him out of his mind. He hated being the object of other people's amusement. He hated the way she laughed when he inevitably reacted negatively to her. And most of all, he hated the way that her amusement didn't even make a good job of hiding her interest in him. He hated being the object of her attention, and he wanted to shout at her for not knowing any better. She had to have the worst bloody instincts in the whole world not to reject him on sight.

Draco didn't think he was being very conceited in thinking that he got more than his fair share of female attention. Clearly, it must be the self-loathing that acted like an aphrodisiac for all these women. He wasn't grateful for the attention, but he didn't make a habit of scoffing at it either. It was what it was. Yet, to have Hermione Granger of all people exhibiting the same signs that he'd seen in dozens of other women over the years... it disappointed him. Somehow he'd thought she'd be cleverer, or at least subtler. Harder to reach. Less like everyone else. In his mind, she had been aloof and unwilling to even talk to him. But then again, in his mind, she knew.

One thing Granger certainly wasn't, was the same person as when they'd been teenagers. She was somehow, in spite of ribbing him, quieter, and maybe a little bit sadder now. She championed her projects, but it was half-hearted compared to what it used to be. Sometimes he caught her stopped, in the middle of eating or writing something, or sometimes even in the middle of a conversation, simply staring blindly ahead. Other times, she'd laugh, but she would look like she would much rather cry.

And that was when she wasn't like everyone else, but a little bit like him, and he found himself reluctantly sympathising with her in those moments. As others prodded her to continue or asked her if she was all right, he simply watched her, knowing exactly how she felt, and knowing that she wasn't all right. He didn't know if she had secrets weighing her down or if she was merely still heartbroken over Weasley, so he didn't know if she might one day heal, but he did know that right now she was hurting. Because she was like him, she suffered. But because she was unlike him, she tried to pretend that she didn't. He wanted to say something to her, to explain that pretending didn't make it go away, but how could he? He was spending every hour of every day trying to pretend that his secrets had nothing to do with her, when in fact his recent issues had everything to do with her. She was the key to his suffering, yet she didn't know it. She couldn't know it, because she would shatter. Even if he could somehow secure his own freedom and still tell her, she would shatter. She would break. The boundaries in her mind would become unclear and she would start confusing fantasy and reality, but that wouldn't matter much, because she'd probably suffer from blackouts and memory losses as well.

At least that was what the books all said. There was a chance that everything would be fine, of course. But it all depended on the skill of the brewer, the amount of time one waited before reversing the effects, and the general shock associated with the truth. So, basically, there was little to no hope. He'd brewed his memories into the potion at sixteen years old, it had now been a full decade since then, and the shock would be devastating to her. He could only imagine how Granger might feel about her reality, her history, her choices. She would almost definitely have chosen him, back then, perhaps changing the outcome of the very war by protecting him. She wouldn't have become engaged to Ron Weasley, and wouldn't have been so hurt by his new engagement. She probably wouldn't have been here at Hogwarts a decade later, licking her wounds. But what would have happened instead... he didn't know. Nobody would ever know. Probably, his crazies, which he would have caught even if he hadn't ever been with her, would have been too much for her as well.

He needed to stop thinking about this. There was only one reality. He'd known for years already that her mind was best left alone, so why he was even visiting it again was beyond him.

Yet he couldn't stop himself from helplessly watch her be like him, and waver between sympathy at her damage and anger that after everything he'd done to keep her blissfully unaware of how bad it could've been, she couldn't even be happy.

Unfortunately, the sympathy was what made him make his biggest mistake with regard to her yet. He was sitting in the staffroom, fulfilling his obligation to at least appear sociable every once in a while--he had a rather unique contract, mostly due to his crazies--and trying very hard to ignore Dorcas and Granger merrily chatting, when he noticed a change in the dynamics. Glancing up, he found that Granger had paled, her eyes growing darker. Dorcas was working on another stupid Muggle-made project whilst talking, so he hadn't noticed, and Granger was obviously working hard to try to keep on pretending that nothing was amiss. Draco hadn't heard what they were talking about, so he wasn't certain what had triggered it. Something about families, he thought. But as Dorcas merely kept on going, her breathing became faster and more erratic.

"Enough!" Draco snapped, causing Dorcas to shoot him a confused look. Granger didn't even seem to register him, but was simply staring off into space, her lips slightly moving although no sound came out. It only took a moment before Dorcas noticed as well and jumped to his feet.

"Hermione!" Dorcas said, hurriedly moving around the table to grab her shoulder and give her a shake. "Hermione!"

"Stop it!" Draco growled, quite unable to deal with the damn squib's stupidity. "Go to the Hospital Wing. Tell Madam Vera. Go!"

Dorcas looked both scared and confused, but after only a short hesitation, he did as asked.

Draco stayed seated for a few minutes, watching Granger. Only her lips still moved. He sighed. He'd have to be the one to move her if Dorcas's idea of trying to help was to shake her. Bloody hell, what a clueless git.

"All right, Granger," he said calmly if not gently. This was such a bother. "It's anyone's guess whether you're registering anything at the moment, but I don't want you to panic. Panicking is bad, so don't, all right?"

He paused as if waiting for a response, but he knew he wouldn't get one. Instead he got up and went over to stand in front of her. She didn't move. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her pupils dilated.

He sighed again and shook his head. "It's yourself doing this, Granger. It can happen even without magic, but be careful that you don't try to seal the world off. You could end up at St Mungo's for life, a breathing statue."

No response.

"I'm going to touch you now," he said. "And I really hope you don't react poorly to touch. I sometimes do, you know. One time I broke a bloke's nose and didn't even know about it until later. Personally, I'm rather fond of having an unbroken nose."

He reached out and took her hand. It was warm. He supposed that was always something. It was completely limp, though. He tried giving it a squeeze, but she didn't respond. What on earth could they have been talking about to make her need for escape so complete?

"Now walk," he said. "I don't fancy carrying you up all those floors, so let me lead you."

She followed with no resistance when he gave her hand a tug. Good. Maybe this might still be easy. Now he could only hope that they weren't spotted. How on earth was he supposed to explain her looking like she was under the Imperius Curse whilst he was holding her hand?

Fortunately, however, as he began leading her up the stairs, they didn't see anyone. Only the paintings. Those bloody things might also spread gossip, but there was really nothing for it. She couldn't go on her own. About four floors up, her step faltered and he looked back to see her gaze flickering. He abruptly let go of her hand.

"Back from your little holiday, then?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and continuing his walk without waiting for her.

She automatically tried to keep up. "Wh-what... did you do something to me?"

"Yes, absolutely!" he drily responded. "Your conversation with Dorky annoyed me so badly that I felt the need to hit you with the Confundus Charm."

"Why would y--oh. You didn't, did you? I remember now. You were... talking to me. Thank you. I didn't mean to be rude but I... couldn't... respond. Or maybe I could, I don't know. I didn't very much feel like it."

Draco glanced over at her. She looked genuinely confused and unhappy. Had this never happened to her before? "There's a word for what happened to you," he said. "But I don't like it. In fact, I don't like any of the words they use about these things. Suffice it to say that you and Dorky must've covered some topics that were very unpleasant for you."

She frowned. "I don't understand, though. It's never happened before."

Working from a theory that the less he knew, the less he had to be involved, he smoothly said, "You can tell Madam Vera all about it in a few minutes when you get to the Hospital Wing."

Granger smiled, the strain showing around her eyes. "This is new."

"What is?"

"You being nice to me."

He tensed. "I am not being nice to you."

"No, perish the thought!" Was she mocking him? After he'd helped her? Now, wasn't that gratitude!

He clenched his jaw. "I'll just leave it to Dorky next time, then, shall I? It'll at least be fun to watch, what with his idea of delicate care being a rough shake. You'd probably punch his teeth out and then cry about it."

"Why is the idea of being nice to me so abhorrent to you?"

Because he couldn't risk her seeking him out, that was why. "Survival," he said without thinking, and then he could've hit himself.

"Survival?" she asked, frowning. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm certain you're a very nice witch and all that, but you really aren't my type."

"Do I need to be your type to be your friend?"

He stopped walking and turned to her, his darkest, most unpleasant smirk firmly in place. "But it's not friends you want to be, now, is it?" Then as she quite predictably stared at him in horror, he pointed up and said, "The Hospital Wing is that way. This is my stop." Then he left her without even a backwards glance to turn down the corridor that led to his quarters.

He didn't get much sleep that night. He was much too busy trying to avoid going to a very dark place.

* * *

Draco was drinking. It was his second least favourite way of dealing with his thoughts--his least favourite way was to share them--but it didn't seem like he had much choice these days. Carys was being more of a girlfriend than he could handle, and Vera refused to give him any potions. He'd brew his own, but even the people down at Dogweed and Deathcap wouldn't sell him what he needed. He could attempt to order something in from London, but he highly doubted that would be a success either. Even most of the illegal vendors were wary of doing business with him. Everyone was watching his every move, and he hated it. He'd gained a few points for helping Granger that day, but only a few. Dorcas had been on his case about not seeing her all the way to the Hospital Wing. If the sodding bugger had been that concerned, he could've come back down to help after alerting Vera, but he hadn't, had he? Idiot. McGonagall had known better than to chastise Draco, but had instead expressed pleasure that he'd shown such gentleness towards someone he'd been so adamantly against coming here in the first place.

Gentleness.

What had he been supposed to do, then? Leave and allow Dorcas to traumatise her further? Maybe that kind of behaviour was the key to truly being left alone. He should consider it for next time. But as of this moment, he was getting thoroughly pissed, and tomorrow he would go and teach his classes with a bloody hangover, and he would still be the best damn Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they'd had in decades.

There was a soft knock on his door. He ignored it. He wasn't obligated to make himself available tonight, so he didn't plan to. That door wouldn't open unless he could hear screaming or feel the heat of a roaring fire.

Or, of course, unless the knocker was cheeky enough to try the doorknob uninvited and he'd forgotten to lock it.

"Oh, you're here!" Granger said. She sounded cautious, but wasn't cautious enough not to enter and close the door behind her.

Why had he forgotten to lock it? Maybe he should have hid in his bedroom instead. At least then his office would have been empty, and she wouldn't have gone that far looking for him, would she? Oh, who was he kidding? She'd have invaded every single layer of his privacy if she'd felt the need to. "I'm unavailable," he curtly said, pouring himself another one.

"I see that," she said and tilted her head. "Do you always drink on a Tuesday?"

"I drink whenever the fuck I please," he responded. "What do you want?"

"Charming as always," she muttered.

"Anything for you." Naturally, she didn't understand the depth of his sarcasm, but she identified the tone well enough to narrow her eyes at him.

"So drinking is your solution to your problems, huh?" she said, a bite to her words that he didn't think he'd ever heard before. He really didn't know her any longer, did he?

"What can I say, Granger?" he drawled, pouring himself yet another one. "Not all of us can withdraw from whatever bores us that easily. We need actual reasons to display our crazies." Except that Draco's reason to display his was that he didn't give a rat's furry arse about other people any longer and practically dared anyone to comment. He simply didn't want this to turn into some bonding moment where she explained what had happened and all that rubbish. He didn't care. He only wanted her gone.

She was staring at him now, but he made no effort to break the silence. Finally she said, "You know I wasn't merely bored."

"Do I, then?"

"Would you have helped me if it had been that trivial? I think not!"

He grimaced at that. She had a point. "If you want me to commiserate on having issues, don't bother. Everyone has them, and I honestly don't give a fuck about anyone else's problems."

"You're really a people person, aren't you?"

"I'm a bitter excuse for a wizard, waiting for my turn to die. What's it to you?"

She looked away. "I simply... hate seeing you that way."

He laughed, but he was far from amused. "So you're one of those witches. Well, that can be fun too, I suppose. Want to come over here and comfort me?" He hated even saying the words, and he knew she could tell from his sneer.

She tilted her head again. "Why do you do that? Why do you make such a crude come-on when the whole idea obviously repulses you."

It didn't repulse him. It scared him. The very idea of her touching him like that terrified him no end. "To make you go away, Granger. That's all. Won't you please go away?" He knew he sounded about as exhausted as he felt, but he didn't even care any longer. He just needed peace. Why wouldn't she let him have it?

"You know what I think?" she asked, obviously not going anywhere, but rather moving towards him.

"No, please do enlighten me." He sighed and took another swig. He was going to need it. Hopefully she would get it out of her system and then leave.

"I think I scare you."

He almost choked on his drink. This was becoming too dangerous for words. "Right. How was it? I hate myself and not you? Why don't we test that theory by, say, you leaving me alone for a very, very long time. If that makes me happier, then we can probably deduce that it's not me, it's you."

She snorted at that. "Oh, please. I think that you've put the face of all of your demons on me, and that's why I terrify you so. It won't get better until you deal with them."

"Or you go away. That will work too."

"No! It won't! Don't you think I've watched you? I don't know what happened to you, but I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"I am your worst enemy."

"Rubbish."

"I betrayed you!" Fuck. That was saying too much. "I-I mean all of you. Everyone here." He looked down at his glass, for the moment quite unable to look at her.

He knew she watched him with those big brown eyes that saw too much as she quietly said, "And you still feel so very guilty for that, don't you?"

Every day, every night, he searched his brain for something--anything--else he could have done to somehow prevent the war, maybe prevent some of the death and destruction. He had never come up with a single thing, because it would have meant that his life, her life, his parents' lives, would all have been put in so much more immediate danger, and never would he have allowed that. So other people had died and her mind was forever altered. Because of his selfishness. And he wouldn't even change it if he could.

"What's to feel guilty about?" he said, feeling nausea set in. "I did what I did. No use in crying about it now." He studied his glass again, wondering how it had emptied itself once more.

"Then why won't you look at me?" She was coming closer. He didn't like it. "You really need to--"

"Do you know how many witches think they know what I need?" he abruptly asked, raising his eyes to hers again. "Almost every single one I meet. Do you know how many of them are right?"

She stopped and crossed her arms. "My guess would be almost every single one!"

That took him aback. "What?"

"Have you ever even tried doing anything you didn't want to do? Simply to see if it might work?"

"You have no idea what I've tried in order to shut people up, Granger," he said, deciding that pouring another drink was a good choice.

"Really? Truly tried? You didn't just make one half-hearted attempt and then say, 'Sorry, this won't work--here, let's have sex instead'?"

He had to fight not to gape at her. The gall of this woman. "You're so clever, aren't you?"

"Yes, so I've been told many times. By people far more trustworthy than you."

"All right." He put down the glass. "Then what do you propose, Little Miss Know-It-All?"

She sniffed. "You can stop with the condescension, for one thing. But why don't you try facing your issues, instead of running away from them?"

"Facing my issues? That's your big suggestion? I'm rather disappointed. I'd have thought you could at least come up with something a little less cliché."

She took the last couple of steps to bring her up to his desk and put her hands down on it. "Face me."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She wasn't nearly fuzzy enough around the edges for this. "And how do you suggest I do that?"

She straightened again. "I'm not completely sure. It depends. What is it that frightens you so much?"

He slowly rose, taking some pleasure in how she warily eyed him. "What frightens me?" he asked, feeling a strange calmness come over him. That calmness was in itself a warning sign, but he was beyond caring. He'd asked her to leave repeatedly and now she'd wasted her chance. If she wanted to challenge him so badly, then he would oblige her.

"If you're hoping to intimidate me--" she began.

He leisurely walked around his desk, making her abruptly stop talking as he reached her. "Then what? I've succeeded?" he mocked. He looked down at her. She wasn't actually that petite, but she was still shorter and slighter than him. He had the physical advantage, but that shouldn't matter if she had her wand. Would she really be stupid enough to walk unarmed into an unstable wizard's private rooms? He thought not.

She might be stupid enough not to want to use her wand on him, though.

Unexpectedly she squared her shoulders. "Go ahead," she said. "Do your worst. Tell me how you don't want me or want to be friends. I don't care. You can ridicule me until you're blue in the face."

"Why?"

Her eyes softened a fraction. "Because you held my hand when I couldn't find my way out. I want to help you find your way as well."

What sentimental drivel was that? Finding one's way? Positively disgusting. He opened his mouth to say so, but the words wouldn't come. Those damn expressive eyes of hers were rooting him to the spot and completely silencing him.

It must be the alcohol that had finally hit.

He tried again, but not a sound would come. He shook his head in frustration, to clear it, and made an aggravated sound. She immediately stepped closer and put her hand on his chest. "Draco, it's ok."

What was ok? What was even happening? He had no idea, because suddenly he was pulling her closer and covering her mouth with his.

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Master List

The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge, Chapter 11

2013-01-21T21:00:08Z

Title: The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Mild Kink, Mild Violence, Polyjuice (Body Switch), Profanity, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Threesome
Warning Note: I do not warn per chapter. What I warn for may be in chapter 1 or chapter 39 and they may or may not be what you expect them to be. If you have a very specific trigger, you can PM me for details pertaining to that specific thing, otherwise tough luck, cookie.
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Through a series of uncontrollable events and deliberate decisions, Draco and Hermione are now, a little more than a decade after the war, both working as Aurors. Draco is a complete git and the only one who'll pair up with him for anything is Hermione. This is suiting her less and less, though, so she tries to open his eyes to all the things that have changed. An open-eyed Draco, however, is a force to be reckoned with.
Extra Note: Thank you to margotlefaye (chapter 1-5), dollfaced and mazvn for the beta and robs55 (chapter 1-7) and filigree (chapter 8+) for the Britpick. You guys rock! You saved this story. :D
Chapter Length: 5,216

* * *

'This is where the missing witch was last seen?' Draco squinted at the small Muggle village lying in front of them, positively brimming with electrical light on this already dark December afternoon. He disliked Muggling it so much. Why did all of their more involved cases suddenly have to involve Muggles?

Hermione nodded. 'We might have to go back and question her friends and family but Burke actually did an impressive job of that as well as asking around down here.'

'Burke...' Draco frowned. 'He's been out of training a year, hasn't he? He couldn't have partnered up and gone?'

'No, he had to stay at home for personal reasons.'

'Oh, right. His wife is having a baby soon. I forgot.'

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 'Yes. He's just a kid!'

'He's twenty-two.'

'Exactly. Like I said, a child. Who plans to have children at that age?'

'And you think I'm judgemental, Hermione?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and then began walking down towards the village.

'I wish we could simply Apparate home each night. I have a very comfortable home, you know,' Draco muttered.

'Yes, yes, camping out at random houses with me is dreadful. I heard you.'

How she'd heard that, he had no idea, because he'd never said such a thing. Not recently, at any rate.

'Do you think it'll be a one- or two-bedroom place?' he asked, not certain how he felt about either prospect.

'With our luck, it's probably one. We can always hope for two, though.'

She didn't want to share a bedroom with him? Well, he did suppose that if there wasn't going to be any sex, then sharing a bed was more than a little inconvenient at this point. Especially considering how hard it would be to fall asleep in that bed. He could vividly imagine it; lying next to her, almost but not quite feeling her body heat, listening to her breathing... He was already half out of his mind over her and that would probably push him over the edge.

'Yeah, separate bedrooms is the only way you can keep your hands off me,' he said with a smirk.

The way she snorted at him suggested that maybe she didn't consider that a problem. His vanity didn't like that. She'd initiated sex with him twice, so obviously she must be attracted to him. No need for her to pretend that that wasn't the case.

He at least had no problem acknowledging that he still wanted her, but it mustn't happen again. He couldn't sleep with his partner like that. It was... unprofessional. He didn't mind Hermione wanting to sleep with him, but he couldn't afford hormones to get the better of him again. He wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man who had to do whatever he could not to cause drama with his partner, because he knew very well what damage she could do to him if she should so choose.

'What's the matter?' she asked, nudging him to take a turn. He hadn't even noticed they'd reached the houses.

He realised he'd been frowning and quickly smoothed out his features. 'Nothing. Simply thinking about the case.'

'Ah, indeed,' Hermione said with a sigh. 'Are we siblings, friends, or a couple this time? You know, maybe you could be her boyfriend.'

'She's more than a decade younger than us!'

'Not unheard of, Mr Judgemental.'

Draco scowled at her. He would not even pretend to be seeing someone not yet out of her teens. 'Still a bad idea. They might be suspicious as to why she'd run away from me. Besides, Burke made a note of someone she appeared to be seeing here.'

'Fine. So we're simply two of her friends, looking for her.' She stopped in front of a house, frowned, checked the number and moved on.

'And I'm never playing your brother again,' he said.

'That's usually what you want!'

'That was before I slept with you.' That was a little more blunt than he'd meant it to be. Still, there was something to be said for the truth.

She stopped and stared at him, before getting her bearings enough to say, 'That doesn't--'

'But it does change things, Hermione,' he said, his voice quiet. 'At least a little. I can't pretend to be your brother any more.' He wasn't that competent an actor.

She looked away. He was sorry that he made her uncomfortable, but things had to be clear between them. 'This is us,' she muttered, hurrying up to the front door of a quaint little house and unlocking it.

* * *

Perhaps Draco did have a point. Pretending to be someone's sibling when you'd known them carnally might not be that easy. What if lingering attraction or tiny hints of intimate knowledge showed? But then again, it wasn't as if people would be looking for any signs that they weren't siblings. People had a tendency to accept things at face value--which was largely why Draco's cold kisses had been able to pass for this long.

'All right,' Hermione said when they were inside. 'We'll say we're friends of her and each other.'

'Such a stretch,' he drily commented before going in to check on the rooms.

Well, it was, wasn't it? They'd never been friends. They'd barely got along or even liked each other. They'd just kept each other alive. And had sex sometimes. If twice could be called sometimes. But this time they wouldn't have sex. He was as far as she knew in a relationship and even if he should stoop that low, it wasn't Hermione's way.

'Two bedrooms,' he called out. His voice was neutral about it.

'Oh, good!' Hermione said, honestly feeling the relief. She could sleep next to him again if she had to--she could!--but she just preferred if she didn't have to. There was simply something about sleeping next to a warm male that you sexually desired and couldn't touch that was extremely frustrating. If the circumstances had called for it, however, she would have done it. She could be mature and professional if she absolutely had to.

Draco appeared back at the entrance. 'Both kind of tiny, though. Odd place, this. What kind of house doesn't have a master bedroom with a decent bed?'

Hermione shrugged. 'A house that doesn't need it? Where do you want to go first?'

He shot her an odd look. 'No rush or anything,' he muttered. 'Relax. We'll be out of here before Christmas. It's two weeks away!'

'Uh-huh. Haven't heard that one before. And it's only ten days away.'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'Ok, fine. How about an early supper whilst we sort out the details?'

She nodded. 'All right. But I suppose I should change then.'

'Into what? You're already Muggled up and I sincerely doubt this town even has a restaurant that requires the staff to have cooking skills. Let's just go.'

Hermione's eyebrows rose. He certainly had a way of provoking her. Was it really so difficult to give her five minutes to change? 'Wow, if that's indicative of your understanding of women, no wonder you get dumped a lot.'

'What, you consider this a date?' He wrinkled his nose in what had better just be confusion.

'No! But I still want to look presentable when I go out.' Seriously, who did he think she was?

He snorted and shook his head. 'Presentable? What, like with that tarty skirt you wore in Firrhaven?'

'You'd better have meant tartan,' she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

'It barely covered your arse!'

Oh, he was asking to die.

'My arse is what won us that case whilst you were sleeping it off!' she hissed.

'Dragon dung! Why do you suddenly think you have to promote yourself like a common scrubber?'

Hermione blinked, not sure whether to scream, beat him, hex him or just lock herself in one of the bedrooms.

She reminded herself that Draco Malfoy had always called her names. The difference was, however, that now when he called her names, she didn't have the same defences. That's what you got from sleeping with an arsehole. Why couldn't he have been as crappy in bed as he was outside it? Now she was stuck with stupid lust for his stupid body, whilst his personality was as rotten as it had ever been. If only she could gag him and tie him up and never have to deal with his personality again.

'I know you think I'm some kind of worthless whore,' she finally said, 'but just remember that you didn't mind that so much when you were the one using my services.' She slowly turned, meaning to put away her things before gritting her teeth and enduring his presence again.

She was flung back around and shoved against a wall. 'You're missing the point,' he growled at her.

He was seriously invading her space and she wasn't appreciating it. However, he probably needed to feel that he was in control, even if only physically, and she would endure it for a few minutes if it meant getting him to stop acting like an arse. If all else failed, she could hex his bits off.

'And what's that?' she sneered back at him.

'You're not going out there, flirting, snogging, and shagging your way through this case.'

'You're not the boss of me, Malfoy.'

'No, Potter is. I wonder what he'll say if I put my complaints in an official report.'

She pursed her lips in thought and spent a few seconds considering that. Harry wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye to it if it went on record, but she'd hardly lose her job either. 'What's it to you?'

'There was a time when you didn't rub this... little hobby of yours in my face. Could we please go back to that?'

Hermione thought that sounded like an odd request and she opened her mouth to say so, when he moved, and she caught a whiff of his soap. It was his usual. Nutmeg. A classic, she supposed. But also a dead give-away to her that he probably wasn't with the apple-witch any longer. Now this ridiculous show of dominance suddenly made sense. 'Just because you broke it off with yet another witch doesn't mean I'm available to you,' she said. 'The sooner you get that through that thick skull of yours, the better.'

'Interesting you should say that, considering you're the one that was jealous,' he said.

She gaped. 'What?'

'I saw the look on your face back when you thought you'd figured me out. You were ready to scratch someone's eyes out.' His voice was low and insinuating he knew something about her that nobody else knew. He didn't really. He was mistaken.

'I do not get jealous!'

'Right.' He had an insufferable look that made her want to smash his face in. Well, more than she wanted to smash his face in for still having a grip on her arms and forcing her up against a wall. At least their bodies didn't touch. After these most recent insults she wouldn't have been able to handle it if they were. She would have castrated him on the spot. Certain things were simply not sexy.

'Right! If anything, I was just surprised that you--' She cut off, realising too late that there was no good way to complete this sentence. Crap. She still had to work with the man.

'That I what?' he very predictably asked.

She sighed. 'That you'd had sex first, ok? You're so repressed; the fact that you managed to be first made me aware of exactly how... how I can't be me in our tiny wizarding world.'

'So you didn't care; you only saw it as a sort of competition?' He looked like he didn't believe a word she said.

'I'm not a possessive person.' She would have loved to explain that it didn't have anything to do with him but rather her whole life philosophy in which monogamy didn't really play a part any longer, but she suspected he would just brush it off as her not having met the right wizard yet. Who knew, maybe she hadn't. All she knew was that Malfoy wasn't that wizard.

'So, did you go out and have sex then?' he asked.

She blinked. 'What?'

'Did you? I mean, since you obviously cared about who got some first, you wouldn't want to be left behind, right?' His hands were gripping her arms so tightly she was certain she would bruise.

'That's really none of your--'

'Answer me!'

She winced. They were yelling now? 'No! Ok? But that has nothing to do with you.'

He cocked his head and looked at her for a moment before stepping back, letting go of her. 'I suppose not,' he then said. 'But it's been an awfully long time for you, hasn't it?'

'Not really. You simply don't get it, do you?' She wearily leant her head against the wall. Maybe she needed to see if she could make him understand. At least so he wouldn't draw the wrong conclusions again. 'The Ministry is a very conservative place, so I can't just go about my personal life any way I want to. I am a witch with political ambitions. My only chance to ever have sex is either by going to Muggle venues or only engaging people I trust explicitly.'

She really hoped he wouldn't make a thing out of the fact that she'd just said she trusted him. Of course she did. She had to in order to put her life in his hands. They were partners and usually he didn't sell her out.

He stared at her. 'That's the oddest reason I've heard yet.'

'I've given up many things in my life to get where I am now--some were easy sacrifices, others weren't--but I'm not giving up sex too. I just need to be discreet or they won't take me seriously. They will only think about how promiscuous they find me and wonder how I can have any opinions worth listening to, because obviously people with vaginas can't both have something to contribute intellectually and be a warm-blooded person with needs and desires. I mean, look at you and how you lost all respect for me as soon as I let you find me out.'

'I didn't--'

'Yeah. You did. You wanted me but you didn't respect me as a person any longer. All I want is the right to be judged by my work and not by my personal life. I won't rub anything in your face. I've always been very discreet around you in the past, haven't I? Why should I change that?'

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. Yet again, he'd been an absolute wanker, thinking her nothing but someone who was led around by her twat. Her words might have given him food for thought, but it wouldn't be long before he'd dismiss that and go back to being a wanker again. Oh, the joys of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

A meal and a strictly work-related conversation later, Draco was still not sure how to deal with Hermione.

How did you deal with that kind of attitude at all?

He didn't understand her. She made everything much harder on herself than she had to. If she was really as devoted to her grand plans as she claimed to be, then a relationship was exactly what she needed--to join forces with some pillar of society, like one of the other War Heroes, and present a strong, united front.

It made him wonder what had really happened between her and Ron Weasley about five years ago to turn her off relationships to the point where she'd rather make things much harder on herself than they need be than trust someone else with her heart.

Something had to have happened. She simply wasn't the type to be living like this.

'Stop staring at me,' she coolly told him as they were making their way back. 'I wore my prissiest outfit and most boring make-up just for you.'

He scowled at her. He knew she was angry with him for criticising her behaviour and the way she dressed, but didn't she understand why it frustrated him?

Well, fine, maybe he didn't entirely understand it himself. The fact of the matter was that he didn't quite know how to act or feel around her. He disliked knowing about her casual sexual habits. And he didn't like seeing her flirting with other men because he didn't quite know how to cope with how casual their sex had been to her. He wasn't used to being that easily discarded by witches. Additionally, every blow landed so much heavier when he and Hermione fought now and he hated it. He still trusted her implicitly when it came to having his back, but not only had she said that she didn't trust him any longer, but he didn't know who she was any longer.

He'd never slept with a witch like Hermione before. Not even once. He'd never met anyone that clever and independent, and he'd made it a life philosophy never to touch any witch who wasn't a potential mate. Either he didn't like the witch, in which case he would avoid her like the dragon pox from the beginning, or he did like her, in which case he would do his best to see her again.

Hermione fit into neither of Draco's two neat, uncomplicated categories. He didn't not like her, but obviously going out with her couldn't be an option even if she had wanted it. Not only would his family be more trouble than any witch could be worth, but their personalities seemed to continuously clash. He couldn't imagine six months of a relationship like that, let alone thirty years.

She let them into the house whilst Draco was trying to figure out a way to voice all of this.

'I'm going to bed,' she then said as she was taking off her coat.

'What? It's still early.'

'Yes, well, I'm tired, you're draining, and I'm counting on an early start tomorrow. Night!' She disappeared into one of the tiny bedrooms.

Hesitantly, because he was well aware of Hermione's temper, he decided to brave her mood and knock on her door. They needed to sort things between them.

'Apology accepted, now go away!' she called out, not opening the door to him.

He couldn't help but grin at that. Ok, so maybe he did need to apologise. 'I actually am sorry,' he replied.

'Of course you are!' she scoffed. Had nobody ever told her that nice girls weren't supposed to be sarcastic?

'I am! Honestly didn't mean to say you were a... were morally loose. I mean, who am I to talk, really? I was just as bad, wasn't I?'

Her door swung open and she eyed him sceptically. 'But you're a man and men have needs.'

'So maybe sometimes I think like that,' he admitted. 'But that doesn't mean I'm insincere.'

She crossed her arms and leant against the doorframe. 'You must really be feeling the heat from Harry's scrutiny.'

'Let me put it this way: I'm more certain than ever that he's just itching for an excuse to sack me.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'Why would he need an excuse when he has so many valid reasons?'

'Oh, clever. Forgive me?'

'Fine. In the spirit of getting along, I'll forgive you. But if you ever talk down to me again, I will remove your bollocks very slowly with a very dull and rusty saw whilst you're under a sensitivity curse.'

'And I suppose you will give Potter his excuse as well?' he asked, not quite able to refrain.

'No. But if you supply any new reasons, I might share them with him. I don't care what you think of me, but you can't let it affect your cases.'

He didn't believe her when she said she didn't care what he thought of her. She reacted far too strongly not to care. He did, however, believe her when she said she wouldn't be petty enough to get him sacked. 'All right, then,' he said. 'Thank you, Granger.'

'Goodnight, Malfoy,' she said and closed the door in his face.

* * *

Hermione didn't get much sleep that night. Fortunately, it seemed that neither did Draco. She heard him moving around, the bed creaking as he tossed and turned, and then he was moving around again, even going to the loo at one point. In the morning, he looked like he hadn't slept at all.

That would teach him to be such a git.

It was odd, though. In all the time since they'd first slept together he'd never outright admitted he still wanted her. The second time they'd had sex hardly counted; he'd been so worked up from the case and anger at her for taunting him. Everything had been heavily flavoured by his distaste of what they were doing, she was neither stupid nor naïve enough not to know that. Yet now he seemed partially motivated by jealousy. She was fairly certain that he didn't realise it and would never admit it if he was, but the warning signs were definitely there.

She hadn't quite decided how to handle that. She knew he wasn't infatuated with her in any way, so it must just be some kind of natural possessiveness on his end. Jealousy did not equal any kind of tender feelings, after all. It just meant that someone thought that someone or something else belonged to them. She did not belong to him, nor did she have any intention of ever belonging to him, but calling him on his stupidity could possibly bring further discontent into their partnership.

Come to think of it, maybe the partnership was to blame. They had been on many cases together and that tended to create a rather unique bond--even if that bond didn't particularly help them get along--and now with the sex, he thought he had a say in how she ran her life. She knew he didn't approve of her ways and would rather see her settled down like a good little witch, but, really, if this was how he chose to show that, he was severely out of line. He'd never have the right to tell her what to do with her life, no matter what happened between them.

'Do we really have to do this?' Draco was scowling at her.

She barely hid a smirk. Getting up early to check the nearby forest areas before there was barely even any light had been her idea. It was a classic and in December it was very uncomfortable. Draco liked his comforts. Especially when he hadn't slept well.

'We need to find the witch,' she reminded him. 'She could simply be lost in there. Or have had an accident. This seems like the only thing Burke didn't investigate at all.'

'Because it's rubbish! She would have brought her wand and this smattering of trees is hardly the Forbidden Forest.'

'If she can't heal, then her wand won't do much good to a broken limb.'

He sighed with great exaggeration as if she didn't have a perfectly valid point. 'Fine. We circle back in time for lunch?'

She smiled deviously and opened her backpack to show him the food there. 'I went out this morning when you were still passed out. Finding something to bring with us was surprisingly easy.'

He looked anything but pleased. 'I bet those sandwiches are dry,' he muttered.

'You just be glad I didn't pack dinner as well.'

'I'm thrilled.'

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at his surly mood. He'd been the one wanting this case, and now it was a huge issue that they had to go solve it? She got out her wand. 'So, I was thinking I try to detect the magic from her w--'

'Whoa! Magic around Muggles?'

'It's a missing person, Malfoy. We can't do it the slow way. You'll just have to Obliviate anyone that asks too many questions.'

'That's not what you said the last time a person had gone missing.'

'Last time they turned up dead.'

There was an awkward pause. This topic simply didn't lend itself to petty squabbles. 'Point taken,' he then softly said. 'But it wouldn't have made much difference, even if...'

'And what if it would this time? It's Christmas, Malfoy.' The last bit came out sort of pathetic and she flinched.

He was quiet for a second, but then nodded and said, 'Right. You use magic, I'll keep an eye out for... whatever might be relevant.'

Sometimes he was quite understanding--for a clueless git.

* * *

Hermione enjoyed tormenting him far too much, Draco decided. She didn't understand how their history was eating his brain and ruining his ability to think clearly. He didn't want to be in some stupid, cold forest, looking for some lost witch with her. He didn't know what he wanted, but this was not it.

This was all very worrying. Without Hermione he did not seem to have a career, so he couldn't afford to not want to be here with her.

Sleeping with her had been a bad idea. A really, really, really bad idea. But once Hermione had set her mind on seduction, it had been impossible to say no. She had such a strong confidence in herself and her abilities that simply permeated everything she said and did. He'd always known that, of course, but to see it used to promote that sexy body of hers... he'd like to see any man that could reject her. Possibly, such a man did not exist. Differing sexual orientations be damned, she was simply that magnetic. Thinking was not an option when she'd decided she wanted you. Damn her games.

Draco didn't enjoy games. He liked things to be simple and easy. He liked to go out with witches with traditional values that matched his own. True, he wasn't going out with Hermione, but he knew she was pushing his buttons just because she could and didn't let a little thing like the truth get in her way of doing that. She'd always been fond of winding him up. Never before had it made him want to shag her senseless, though. He'd just been annoyed with her or--possibly more commonly--wanted to strangle her.

But bloody hell the sex had been good. He tried not to think about it too much--he didn't want to put more strain between them than he had to by continuously lusting for her--but even though both times had clearly been a mistake, he couldn't be sure that they were mistakes he wouldn't repeat if he had the chance.

Damn these Muggle trousers--jeans, he believed Hermione had called them--he'd worn today for being so tight in the groin area. But good thinking on his part to wear his new Muggle-style coat that he'd bought after Firrhaven just on the off-chance that he might have to be outside in a Muggle area for any length of time in the cold again. It wasn't too bad for a Muggle coat. It didn't stop short of the arse like too many of their garments did. This meant he got to keep his arse nice and warm and it hid any physical reactions he had to forbidden thoughts.

'You're very quiet,' Hermione observed, not looking at him, but keeping her eyes on her wand as she slowly moved forwards along the path. The fact that they barely had any light in spite of the Muggle torch--which had nothing to do with a torch, so the name puzzled him--she'd made him hold for her so she could see where she went, only made the process even slower.

'Just tired.' He didn't mind admitting this too much.

She smirked again, the annoying witch. 'No, I noticed you didn't sleep that well.'

'Neither did you,' Draco pointed out. 'The walls are very thin and I heard you moving. A lot.'

'Maybe I just moved in my sleep.'

He snorted. 'Hardly. You sleep like the dead. One time, I actually thought you'd really died.'

'Did not!' she scoffed.

'Did too! And I was about to call it in when you let out this really loud snore...'

She stopped to stare at him. 'I do not snore!'

'Uh-huh. Yeah, you do. Sometimes I'm surprised we even have a roof in the morning.'

Her mouth dropped open. He was loving this. A lot. 'This from the bloke who tosses and mumbles in his sleep and gropes poor unsuspecting people!' she grumbled.

'Sorry. Sometimes in my sleep I forget that you're not actually a woman.'

'Excuse me!' she gasped.

'Well, you know, a normal woman instead of some cold harridan who completely loses it if someone seeks her warmth in their sleep.'

'I can't be both cold and have any warmth,' she icily said.

That was the problem, wasn't it? Her body was so warm and inviting, but she was completely emotionally unavailable. That was not how a witch should be. A witch should be warm and soft and sweet. A witch should smile and flirt and want to fall in love. A witch should care about more of a wizard's parts than his cock, and she shouldn't scoff at the idea of something as simple as staying the night. A witch should want a family of her own and not claim happiness with nothing but a job and sex and an empty house.

But then again, maybe this witch had been burnt by her failed engagement and he couldn't really blame her for that. It had taken him a long time to move on after his own fiancée had been killed. Getting the tremendous amounts of guilt down to a bearable level had seemed almost impossible at times. It wasn't the same thing, of course, but losing someone you cared about was never a good thing. Maybe Hermione was stuck waiting for Weasley to want her again. Considering their easy familiarity, Draco wouldn't be surprised at all if that were the case.

'Just mind your search,' was all he said, making her harrumph and resume trying to find any signs of the magic.

The search went on. The weather was actually rather mild, but after a few hours he was cold, tired, and still hungry after a much too small lunch--which, by the way, had been dry. When would Hermione learn that those Muggle pre-packed sandwiches were always rubbish?

Also, he was bored. And much too mesmerised by the way Hermione crinkled her brow and worried her lower lip in frustration that she hadn't picked anything up yet.

He didn't feel like they would find their wayward witch out here. The reports had been too detailed for Burke to miss something as obvious as a forest stroll gone wrong. Being out here was a waste of time, but at least he could enjoy the scenery.

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Secrets, Chapter 3/15

2012-12-10T16:10:54Z

Title: Secrets
Series: Silencio
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit derivative work based on the world and characters of J. K. Rowling.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut
Main Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Story Warnings: Dubious Consent, Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Psychological Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nine years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione decides to take a holiday from her life to work out who she is and what she wants to do with herself. She soon gets the feeling that Draco Malfoy might be the key to her salvation, but Draco seems to be consumed by a need to keep secrets that are destroying him and does not want her interfering. Armed with a determination to save someone who doesn't want to be saved, she sets out to see how he might fit into the oddly shaped puzzle that is her life.
Credit: Thank you to dollfaced, namelessamelie and mazvn for the comprehensive beta and filigree1 for the Britpick. Extra thank you to dollfaced for the banner.
Chapter Length: 7,328

* * *

Hermione was filled with the most wonderful tingling sensations as her lover stood over her, touching her, making her squirm beneath him. He stayed her with a pleading voice. He was not yet inside her but he was standing so close, she could feel him. She could feel his need. The very idea that she could make him so excited made her both playful and eager for more, so she squirmed again, this time earning herself a sharp reprimand and a bruising grip on her hip. She didn't care. She just wanted more, and for some reason, she couldn't tell him.

Suddenly he bent down and bit her neck, and there was a blinding flash of reddish grey, making her discontent and she struggled against him, but only for a moment. Then he was moving inside of her, and it was the most wonderful feeling. It was all so new and exciting. He was doing his very best to hold back for her, she just knew, and then it all came together in a burst of bright colours. She looked up at her lover to tell him how amazing it had been, only to see that he was no longer close. She was now standing outside. The moon was full above her, and he had his back turned to her, his hair a bit too long and unmistakably blond. "How can you say that I don't love you?" he whispered.

She frowned. No, it couldn't be him. She looked again, and now he was definitely a young teenage Malfoy, sneering at her and saying, "I hate you! Nobody hears about this, do you hear?"

Gasping, Hermione sat up in her bed, staring wide-eyed at the darkness. Then, as it occurred to her what she had just dreamed, she clasped her mouth with one hand before she let out a horrified giggle.

She'd had a sex dream about Draco Malfoy just now. Clearly, celibacy was addling her brains.

But then again, maybe it hadn't been Malfoy doing the actual sex part. People tended to turn into other people at the blink of an eye when she dreamt things, and they said the most confusing things that always made sense until the moment she woke up. Even if it had been him, it was probably because of that whole loaded conversation she'd had with him on their way back from Hogsmeade. Or maybe it had been because of that potion he'd fed her. Who only knew what had been in that potion? She'd only sipped enough to be able to fake having taken it. The rest had generously been poured down a potted plant that Hermione had been very grateful to find as she'd been wary of doing magic. She'd then slapped her own cheeks in an attempt to look warmed up and healthy.

She'd never trusted Draco Malfoy very much, but she especially didn't trust him when he was suddenly so very concerned for her health and insisting on taking care of it personally. Her every instinct had told her not to drink that potion, and she had long since learned to trust her instincts. Instead she'd waited and gone to the hospital wing where she'd woken up Madam Vera to get a safer treatment. If there were a next time, she would keep her mouth shut around Malfoy and go straight to Madam Vera. She didn't know exactly what Malfoy was up to, but she planned on never finding out. She'd simply be more cautious around him and continue to trust her instincts.

Never mind that those supposedly trustworthy instincts were currently telling her that trying to make this sex dream real might be worth it. Apparently instincts didn't mix well with hormones.

* * *

After eating a light breakfast and getting a head start on marking essays, Hermione decided to seek out company for a while. Darius was usually hanging around the staffroom, hoping for someone to help him with his projects. The other teachers sometimes made short appearances as well. And Malfoy... Malfoy's habits were rather erratic, so she didn't even venture a guess. Darius had at one point commented that Malfoy used to be around the staffroom more often, but perhaps Malfoy simply didn't have the time these days.

Hermione found it more likely that Malfoy was simply avoiding her. She didn't know why exactly he would avoid her, but the distaste in his face whenever he looked at her was too pronounced for her to miss. He disliked her to a degree that seemed to come awfully close to hate. That saddened her. She didn't particularly like being hated--who did?--and she didn't quite understand what she'd done to deserve this. Normally, she would attempt to change this state, but Malfoy's eagerness to give her some strange potion last night gave her pause. It was potentially very bad for her health to get caught up with Malfoy and she would probably be much better off merely leaving him alone.

Of course, with that thought dominating her mind, the only one down in the staffroom today would turn out to be Draco Malfoy. If he'd heard her enter, he certainly didn't make the effort to show it. Rather, he remained engrossed in the newspaper he was reading. Hermione stopped and--because she really was terrible at leaving people alone--wondered if he'd acknowledge her if she simply stood there and stared at him long enough.

Putting it to the test, she folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, examining the silence nobody was filling. It really wasn't that silent. There was the rustle of her clothes whenever she moved and the crackle of his newspaper, whenever he turned a page. Not to mention this very low hum that she couldn't quite place. Narrowing her eyes, she considered for a bit, finally concluding that since there was no electricity, the hum must be made by the castle. What she was hearing was the hum of a millennium's worth of magic. It was really quite extraordinary--awe-inspiring, even.

Finally, he lowered the paper, pinning her with an annoyed glare. Oh, so he had noticed her, then?

"Hermione! You're up!" It was Darius who had entered behind Hermione, momentarily distracting her. When she glanced back at Malfoy, he'd returned to his newspaper. How typical.

"Indeed," she said, flashing her brightest smile at Darius. "Did he say something?" she nodded towards Malfoy.

"What, Grumpy there? No. He's not exactly talkative, as you know. But this place is rather chatty. Word even has it that his girlfriend demanded he walk you home. That must have been delightful for everyone." Darius seemed to have problems keeping a straight face at the very thought.

She snorted. "Yes. Positively stimulating."

She didn't even have to look at Malfoy to know that he'd raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. Flashes from the dream she'd had last night rose in her mind and she fought hard not to blush. She should probably go easy on the innuendo today.

Darius looked equally intrigued and unfortunately didn't seem to have a subtle or merciful bone in his body. "What makes you say that, then?"

She shrugged and sat down, avoiding looking at Malfoy. She could lie. She should lie. But if she lied, that would mean acknowledging that the dreams meant something. They most definitely didn't. "Nothing," she lied, glancing back at him.

Malfoy's mouth twitched, and she knew she'd somehow still given it away. Blast it.

Darius sat down in his usual spot. "Apart from having to deal with this bloke, were you all right last night?"

"Oh, yes. I was fine. I had some, uh, interesting dreams, but that's hardly worth mentioning." So why had she? She hoped nobody would ask any additional questions.

But of course they did.

"What kind of dreams?" Malfoy had suddenly decided to be a part of the conversation, forcing her to look at him.

His eyes were oddly intense, making a shock go through her lower abdomen as she remembered what last night's dreams had been about.

"Oh, now you get curious." Darius sniggered.

"I'm not even certain what happened in them," Hermione lied. Lying was becoming a nasty habit, but she simply couldn't tell Malfoy the details. "It was merely very... clear. Very colourful. A bit feverish." Oh, yes. Definitely feverish. And colourful. In a sense.

"It could mean something. Don't leave out any details," Malfoy prodded.

She opened her mouth to refuse replying, but then thought better of it. He'd think she was hiding something. Oh, she definitely shouldn't have said anything. "It really wasn't anything extraordinary," she hedged instead. "It was all very confusing and didn't make any sense. I've forgotten most of it, actually." More lies.

He gave her a long look. "I thought you said the dreams were clear."

"They were," she said. "I woke up convinced they were real. But everything faded rather quickly." Except that her pounding heart and the throbbing between her legs had taken quite some time to fade. But he really didn't need to know that, and she had to stop thinking about it!

She'd never had much of a poker face, but she did her best to emulate one anyway.

"Hm." Malfoy narrowed his eyes, studying her in the most unsettling way. Then he relaxed. "It was probably nothing, then."

If he hadn't been so hard to read (there was nothing wrong with his poker face) she would have thought he was relieved. She couldn't help but study him now to try to figure out why he was so interested in some silly fever dream.

He stared back at her, but when she didn't let that faze her, he abruptly excused himself and left the room with not as much as a backward glance.

Hermione blinked. "He really is an odd one, isn't he?" she asked the chair he'd been occupying.

"You'll get used to him," Darius said. "But about the dream... you left out the good parts, didn't you?" He sat down in the newly vacated chair and pursed his lips at her.

"What good parts?" Oh, dear.

Darius snorted. "You looked so embarrassed. You dreamt about him, didn't you?"

If she kept denying it, it would only seem extra suspicious. Curse her for being too honest. "Is that supposed to mean something now?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I had a dream about Minerva the other night, and she isn't quite my type."

Hermione couldn't help the giggle. Minerva McGonagall must be pushing a hundred by now, and Darius couldn't be much older than thirty. Talk about what a May-December relationship that would be!

"So what was it about?" Darius prodded. "I promise I won't tease. Much."

"I don't think so."

"Come now, Hermione. There's no reception for my telly here, so my entertainment options are already severely limited. Don't deny me this chance to know something that Malfoy doesn't."

Hermione made a face. "It was as bad as it gets."

"Oh?"

Hermione sighed. What did it matter if Darius knew? What did it even matter if Malfoy knew? It had been a silly dream, nothing more. Why was she behaving like one of the school girls she was teaching? "I had sex with him," she confessed. "In the dream, I mean. On a table or something, because I seem to remember he was standing over me and I was on something hard and flat. But the scenery changed once or twice so I can't be completely certain."

"Why can't you have those kind of dreams about me?" Darius teased. "Then we could go and see if reality would live up to the dream. As a highly scientific experiment, of course."

She ignored the teasing. "The funny thing, though, was that I think it must have been my first time. At least there was some kind of pain. It's all very odd since the dream didn't at all resemble my actual first time, which was... uh, well, not relevant actually, so never mind." She blushed again. Some things were private.

"So it was bad sex, then?" he asked, perking up. "Maybe it's your subconscious's way of telling you that tangling with Malfoy will be bad for you."

"Oh, and it's not like you have an agenda," she half-scolded, half-teased.

He shook his head. "So maybe I do. A little bit. But the thing is... Malfoy is... I've known him for two years now, and Carys is the first witch that I've seen him treat like an actual human being. Well, apart from Minerva and let's not go there again. I don't know if you actually mean to encourage him with your hints and blushes, but..." Darius grimaced.

Hermione stared at him. He thought she was trying to encourage Malfoy? And he was giving her a serious warning? "I thought the two of you were some kind of friends," she said after a short pause.

"Friends?" he asked with a short laugh. "Whatever gave you that idea? Malfoy tolerates other people. He does not make friends. I try to stay somewhat on his good side because he's always willing to supply a bit of magic to get me to shut up and leave him alone, but that's as far as it goes."

"Oh." Hermione sat back. She'd of course noticed how the two of them addressed each other, but she hadn't actually thought there'd been this level of dislike behind it.

"But I suppose he's not a bad sort entirely," Darius amended, seeing the look on her face. "He doesn't ignore me any more than he ignores anyone else, and that's more than can be said for most people. Things are going much better for me than I could ever have hoped when I took the mad chance and applied for this job, but there are those who don't want to see me in this position. Each year so far, a few students have dropped my class after learning that I can't do magic."

"That's awful!" Hermione immediately objected.

He smiled at her, indulgently, as if she were an over-eager pet. "I suppose. But I prefer to focus on the good things in life."

That, Hermione supposed, was one of the greater differences between her and Darius. She was always going to focus on the things that needed to be fixed.

* * *

Bracing herself and holding firmer onto her load of scrolls, Hermione firmly knocked on the one blasted door she had tried to avoid. As expected, she was told in a clear tone to "Enter!" and so she did.

Draco Malfoy was seated behind his desk, marking essays. And from the amount of red ink, she would say he was doing a very thorough job of it. Really. If he was so opposed to the idea of being compared to Severus Snape, he shouldn't act like him.

She hadn't seen him about for a while now, except at the occasional meal. She got the distinct impression that he was avoiding her. But considering the nature of the dream she'd had, she didn't mind that overly much. It was very difficult to have an intimate dream about someone and then look them in the eyes without blushing, after all.

"Granger?" he asked, rising from his seat, but not offering her a chair. "Can I help you?"

She hadn't noticed the first time she'd been here, but his office was devoid of any personal touches. No pictures, no funny little knick-knack that didn't belong, not even any books beyond what she assumed must be the most standard writings for his subject. It was like he didn't want to feel too at home here. It made her sad to see how consistently he seemed to reject anything that could be warm and comforting in his life. There wasn't even a picture of his family, which was something Hermione would have expected if she'd thought about it.

But that was none of her business, so she merely said, "I've come up with some ideas for a House Unity project to be done later in the year and I was handing these out to the other Heads of Houses for some initial feedback."

"That's... good?" He looked puzzled and a little annoyed.

She decided to play with him. "Yes, isn't it?"

He didn't seem to want to play. "But what does it have to do with me? I'm not a Head."

Oh, the potential to make fun of him with that unintentional pun. But she must not stoop that low. Not right now, anyway. "No, I know. Horace Slughorn is the Head of Slytherin." She smiled and patiently waited for a response.

"So why are you here?" he finally gritted out.

"Why, he sent me here, of course," she blithely replied. "He listened to my pitch and then decided it was a task for young people to handle."

Actually, he'd mostly seemed like he'd wanted to get rid of her, and Malfoy looked as if he suspected as much.

"He can't put it all on me!" he insisted. "Tell McGonagall that he's trying to weasel out of it and what kind of poor message that sends. I'm sure she'll beat him into submission."

Hermione shook her head. "Mm, not really, no. She decided it was a marvellous idea and asked me to arrange for a younger team across the Houses. That means you, me, Darius Dorcas and Variel Volubilis. Wow, try saying that three times fast."

"Dorky doesn't have a House."

"He functions under Hufflepuff. Grubbly-Plank had no problem with him representing her House."

He scowled extra hard as if it were her fault that Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, current Head of Hufflepuff, hadn't put up a fight. "What's Flitwick's excuse? Variel doesn't even live in the castle!"

"She doesn't need to, actually. As the Transfiguration teacher, she's visible enough. She's agreed to stay late some days, and nobody said the Heads couldn't help us at all. Have you finished protesting?"

He placed his palms on his desk and leaned forwards, a strangely intense look in his eyes. "I don't want to get caught up in any of your stupid projects, Granger."

"My projects aren't stupid!" she immediately objected.

He snorted. "What's this project about, then?"

"An outing to a Muggle town."

"That's about as stupid as it gets." He sat back down, all but dismissing her presence.

She sniffed, a little wounded. "The othering of Muggles, to the extent where nobody seems to know even the very basics, is what makes our society so weak in the face of hate- and fear-mongering."

"If that's what Dorky wants to do with his Muggle Studies class, then by all means--"

"No, it should be mandatory."

"What, all of the school?"

"No, I was thinking just one of the years to begin with. Maybe fourth year, that's nice and in the middle. Or seventh year, if we want to reach them with at least one project before they leave, although their heads are probably so full of the NEWTs that--"

"Could you shut up for a second?" He'd sat back and was rubbing his temple as if he had a headache. "Why don't you just do whatever you want?" he then said, as if refusing to participate was promoting unity in any way.

"Because you'd all have to come along if we're going anywhere," she said. "Especially you. Slytherin is the House I'm expecting the most resistance from."

"Fine. I'll do whatever it takes to get you to shut up and leave me alone."

Oh, how frustrating! Why did he always have to be such a disinterested git? She seemed to be able to vaguely remember a time when he'd had passions too. For all the wrong things, granted, but there had to be a way to redirect that. He had to have new things that caught his interest and made him want to devote his time and energies to them. She would find something that would make him want to help her, even if it killed her! But first things first. "That's not good enough! You have to get involved, Malfoy, and help us work towards a better understanding across the Houses!"

"Oh, I have to do that, do I?" He scowled at her.

"Yes!"

"In that case--the Muggle town trip is an even stupider idea. If you want to promote House unity and not just try to sell one of your numerous uninspired causes, you'll have to do something that's closer to home."

"Huh." She sat down uninvited. "What do you suggest?"

"I don't know, Granger. Something that mixes it up a bit so they would have to socialize outside their own Houses."

Hermione nodded, seeing his reasoning. "I guess we have to think of something to that effect, then."

She ignored his dramatically pained look. He'd been the one to invite a whole new idea, so he really shouldn't complain when he got his way.

Her decision to leave him alone had been completely forgotten.

* * *

"So what was wrong with the staffroom?" Darius asked, looking around the meeting room Hermione had hijacked for the occasion.

"The staffroom," she explained, unloading her parchments on the large table, "is where we go to relax. I wanted a more productive setting."

"That makes sense," Variel Volubilis--the wizarding world certainly seemed to favour tongue twister names--said, sitting down next to Malfoy, far too closely to be subtle, since they were only the four of them in this room. Malfoy, who Hermione had expected to be either indifferent or sneer, shot Variel a mischievous little smile that Variel took as an invitation to lean even closer.

Hermione didn't actually know Variel very well, but already the witch annoyed her. She'd seen her around, of course, at some meals and at the monthly staff meeting, but the other woman tended to go home as soon as she was done with her classes for the day unless she had office hours. She was a few years older than the rest of them--yet not old enough to stop Darius from flirting--and usually seemed nice enough. Then again, possibly no witch was old enough to stop Darius. It didn't matter, though, as she was too busy going after Malfoy to even notice Darius's antics. And Malfoy... although usually aloof, seemed to return those looks now.

"What brought this on?" Darius asked. "I thought we already had a plan."

"Malfoy killed it," Hermione said, making Malfoy sigh and close his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. That annoyed her as well. Why could he never be civil around her, when he could flirt with Variel?

"I'm sorry I ever said anything," he said to no one in particular.

"But I wanted to go!" Darius said, looking quite disappointed.

"You can still go, Dorky," Malfoy said. "No one is keeping you tied down here."

"I can't take students out without anyone with magic accompanying us," Darius growled at Malfoy. "And you very well know that."

"I'll go with you," Hermione offered, rather absentmindedly.

Darius immediately perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But I want to solve this first."

"So... " Variel said, glancing at Malfoy but addressing Hermione. "What exactly is it you need?"

Hermione took a deep breath, willing all of her irrational annoyance with half the people present to go away before she replied, "There's a lot of competitiveness between the Houses, which is perfectly fine, but the students tend to allow that rivalry to take over. I want to introduce something that will force them to see beyond their own House and possibly form interhouse friendships."

"You can't force people to form friendships, Granger," Malfoy said.

"No, but I can force them to do things that make it easier to form those friendships!" she snapped, making Malfoy raise an eyebrow at her. If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked amused.

"I like it," Variel said. "Something like a-a school play? They had those at Beauxbatons every year I worked there."

"That's... that's actually a good idea," Hermione said, making a note of it whilst disliking Variel more each passing minute. Why did her suggestion have to make sense?

"Wrong," Malfoy said in an extremely bored voice. "It's an awful idea, although not nearly as awful as going to a Muggle village." He didn't even seem to notice how put out Variel looked at his blunt dismissal. Hermione noticed and had to suppress a smile.

She mentally scolded herself for being petty and asked, "Why's that?" Then she narrowed her eyes at him for good measure.

"Think it through for a moment, will you?" Draco asked, haughty as ever. "There are no current students with a passion for the arts, or they would have approached someone for permission to set something up or at the very least we'd see some shenanigans in their free time. So someone in this room will get stuck doing all the work. That means either trying to get students to sign up or, worse, making participation mandatory, which would probably result in active resistance from the students. Then there's coming up with a script, where and when to rehearse and perform, hours and hours of directing, costumes, music, scenery... and I haven't even touched on all the scheduling and re-scheduling that would need to be done to fit in lessons, homework, quidditch, runny noses, the odd detention... Do any of you care enough to do even a fraction of that? I certainly don't."

Hermione glowered at him. He was right. The majority of the work load would land on the teachers. And why was she so bloody pleased that Variel's idea wasn't so good after all? "Nobody said this would be a free ride."

"No, but you're hopelessly naïve," he retorted. "You think if you force the kids together, they will naturally bond. They won't. The division is there for a reason--because people like it that way. Nobody is telling them they can't be friends with someone from another House. They just don't always happen to have anything in common!"

There was a brief silence where Hermione didn't quite know how to respond to his statement.

"Wow," Darius then said. "Grumpy suddenly has a lot of opinions!"

"But he has a point," Variel added to nobody's great surprise. "I mean... I'm still supporting the general idea, but I'm not about to sacrifice my every waking moment to this cause. And I see children mingling between Houses all the time. The only Houses that don't really want to mingle with each other are Gryffindor and Slytherin, and that's because they are polar opposites."

"You see Slytherin mingling with Hufflepuff?" Hermione asked.

Variel shrugged. "I have at least one sixth year Slytherin girl and Hufflepuff boy that are seeing each other. They're both very good at Quidditch, and he frequently laments that she has to play for the wrong team and keep losing him the Cup."

"Times have changed, Granger," Malfoy said with a vague sneer. "I thought you would have at least watched the kids a little."

"I've tried to," Hermione said, ignoring his derision as best she could and making more notes, "but in my class they all tend to sort themselves by House. I haven't had much chance to watch them socially outside lessons."

"Sounds to me," Darius said, "like it's really the two of you that need to hash it out. Between your Houses, I mean."

Malfoy now openly sneered.

Variel hurriedly added, "But of course we will be here to help."

Hermione fought back a groan. It really did seem like she might need to talk to Malfoy about this. In private. "All right," she forced herself to say. "Let's think about this and then meet up again in a few days, shall we?"

Naturally, Malfoy was the first one out of there, swiftly followed by Variel. Hermione took her time gathering her notes and Darius simply sat there, watching her. It was unnerving.

Finally, just as she was getting ready to leave, Darius said, "That was interesting."

"What was?" she asked, taking extra care not to crumble the parchment.

"You, pretending that you weren't at all interested in him. Tell me," he leaned forwards as if avidly interested in her response, "what's so special about that git?"

Hermione couldn't help the blush that began to spread. She couldn't quite figure it out either. She didn't know why she felt so drawn to Malfoy, when all signs pointed towards him actively hating her. He was hardly even the most handsome man she'd ever met. In fact, Darius might actually be better-looking. "I don't know that he's special. I need him for this project."

"I know," he calmly assured her. "It's just... you're looking at him, Hermione. And you were scowling at Variel, whether you want to own it or not."

"This may be news to you," Hermione replied just as calmly, "but I'm not actually at Hogwarts for the selection in men. I'm only trying to do my job and do it well, and I'm not certain how to do that with one wizard I need to work with actively avoiding me, and the other one flirting with any witch in sight!" She shot him a very pointed look.

He merely smiled at her. "Ouch. I'm not a wizard, though. And my women don't need to be witches. There are other ways to make magic than actual magic..."

"My mistake!" Hermione snapped.

"Also," Darius continued, rather unfazed and with the most annoying grin, "what about Variel? She's not even subtle about her interest in Malfoy--are you going to deny that it affects you?"

Hermione hesitated. She couldn't stand Variel, but she fully realised that she had no good reason for it. She also realised what Darius would make of it if he knew. "She was a lot more accommodating than you and Malfoy," was all she said. "Right now she's probably my favourite out of the lot of you."

Darius shook his head. "All right. If that's how you want to play it. I suppose you don't care where I saw her hands go, either. Or that Malfoy didn't seem to mind. Or that there are a lot of empty rooms between here and their destinations."

"Why would I care?" Hermione made a conscious effort not to frown or grip her notes too hard. She really didn't care. Besides, Malfoy already had a girlfriend, so it was not only stupid but also rather pointless to begin caring. Any other witch, including her, would only be a plaything to him. An open relationship meant that his bed was open, not his heart. She really didn't need to become physically involved with a co-worker. She most certainly didn't need to risk becoming emotionally attached to someone so... so... mean, selfish and immature. But rather than elaborate on that, she simply added, "I only think it's annoying that everyone here finds... mating... more fascinating than teaching!"

At that, Darius grinned again. "Well, the students also find mating more fascinating than learning, so I suppose it all works out in the end."

With a disgusted sound, Hermione left an openly laughing Darius behind.

* * *

"Malfoy!"

"Go away, Granger. Find someone else to stalk."

Hermione placed her fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes at the annoying git. He was hiding out in his office as usual. It really was a rubbish hiding spot. If he didn't want to be stalked, he should consider hiding somewhere else.

"We need to talk about the House Unity project," she needlessly said. He knew fully well why she was there, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. For two days she'd tried, completely in vain, to get him alone. Now that she finally had, she wasn't going to leave that easily.

"We don't really," he replied. "You just do what you usually do and decide what you feel needs to be done, and I'll make sure the Slytherins know."

She made a derisive sound and marched up to his desk to throw down her rolls of parchment. "You need to do more than that. Darius was right. Slytherin and Gryffindor need to get along the most."

"Dorky just wanted to get out of having to do anything himself, and he succeeded."

"He didn't. He's offered to help with anything we need."

Malfoy sighed as if talking to her was a great chore. To him it probably was, and even though she tried not to let it get to her, it still stung and made her angry. "When will you learn, Granger?" he said, patiently, as if to a child. "You're actually the only one who cares about this project of yours. The only one who thinks it's needed."

She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "McGonagall feels it's needed."

"McGonagall is terrified that Hogwarts might create another Dark Wizard during her time, so she'll do anything to prevent it. My subject is probably the most regulated one for that very reason. If you made her think that there's any way that someone with a dark penchant might revise their thinking this way, then of course she's going to let you do it."

Hermione glared at him, but he didn't flinch or in any way change his expression. "Like it or not, Malfoy," she finally said, "we're going to do this. The more you fight it, the more time you will have to spend with me."

He sighed again in the most annoying and exaggerated manner. "If I can't change this, Granger, then at least tell me how I can end it quickly."

Once more she swallowed the sting of his constant rejection, and sat down in front of him. "You could start by giving me some really good ideas."

He stared at her in disbelief. "I have to give you ideas? You've had days to figure this out! And did I mention yet that I don't care?"

"Yes, but anything I come up with is immediately shot down by Your Highness, so I think you could at least give me an idea of what would be acceptable!"

He blinked, quite taken aback by her tone. "I see. Well, I suppose... force them to look inwards, not outwards."

"Inwards?" she prodded.

"Yes. Each House prides itself of certain strengths. Make them use those. All together. To create something that they wouldn't be able to on their own."

That actually sounded quite fascinating. "What creations did you have in mind?"

He scowled at her. "What? I'm supposed to do all the work? You figure it out!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to sigh. For a second, it had almost seemed like he might take an interest in this or at least give it some thought. "All right. I'm certain that if we spend hours and hours together, you'll eventually--"

"Kill you? I really have no idea what they should make, Granger. I'm not that creative. Or interested. Did I mention my lack of interest?"

"Creative." She mulled that over. "Oh! What if it were a creative project, and they had to think of something themselves?"

Draco shot her a skeptical glance. "No guidelines? That'll end well."

"Of course there will be guidelines. But it'll still force them to communicate in order to come up with something."

"And then they might kill each other. Brilliant! I've always wanted fewer students."

"Oh, stuff it." He raised an eyebrow at her but she ignored him. "Communication is what we want," she continued, "We will assign groups with one student from each House where applicable, and we will force them to use at least two of our four combined subjects and mark them on how well they do and, oh my, we really solved this, didn't we?" She began scribbling, very excited with the new progress.

"I still think it sounds terribly vague."

"Shut up. Were you born to piss on everyone's parade? This will be great!"

"Yes, as a matter a fact I was b-- Wait... did you say two of our subjects? No, you can't do that!"

She looked up, feeling fairly exasperated with Malfoy at this point. "And why ever not?"

"You have Arithmancy, don't you? And Dorcas has Muggle Studies? The vast majority of the groups will have at least one member that isn't taking your classes, and they will have to fall back on the mandatory-to-a-point classes, which will happen to be my Defence Against the Dark Arts and Variel's Transfiguration. You can't do that to us!"

"Hmm." Hermione stopped writing and thoughtfully tapped her quill against her lower lip. "In spite of your terrible whinging, I suppose you do have a point."

"I always have a point."

"Of course you do, dear," she said with all the patience of an elderly matron. "Now do be quiet and let me think."

He scowled at her.

"All right, how about this, then..." she began, completely unfazed by his bad temper, "they freely avail themselves of all subjects, not just any of ours, and everyone extend their office hours as needed? This will also make it relevant to include House Unity themes in everyone's subjects. It will truly be a school-wide project."

"Could this potentially annoy Horace Slughorn?"

"Definitely."

"Then I say go for it."

She cracked a smile. "That's what I thought."

"But, Granger..." He leaned forwards in his chair and glared at her. "Do not take to following me around simply because you can. I will not spend more time with you than I absolutely have to. Do you understand that?"

She slowly shook her head, and his stare lost some of its power as the burning determination gave way to confusion.

"What?" he weakly asked.

"You asked me if I understood. I don't."

"What's there to understand? I simply don't want--"

"Why do you hate me so much?" she bluntly asked. If he'd been more subtle, she could probably have let it slide, but since he kept throwing his hate in her face, she felt she deserved to know why.

"You really have to ask me that?"

"Yes! I do! I told you that I don't hate you, and I certainly have far more reason to--oh, don't look at me like that! You know I have far more reason to hate you than you do to hate me!"

It seemed to take him some effort, but he did manage to tear his gaze from her and tensely stare off to the side for a moment before he said, "I know."

"Then why?"

"You're an unwelcome reminder."

She really had to pull it out of him, didn't she? So be it. Even if she had to roll up her sleeves and get in knee-deep with his insults and evasions, she would do it. If she had to endure being snubbed by him for months yet to come, she would at least know why. "Of what?"

"I don't want to--"

"Of what?"

He glared at her again. "Of a time best forgotten. Of things I had to do. Things... I never wanted to do. You remind me of every single event that brought out everything ugly and weak and hateful in me, and I wish you'd just... go away."

She was completely shocked. "Why do I--?"

"You were there, Granger. For all of it. Nobody else here was. McGonagall and Longbottom were never quite as actively in my face as you were. Or quite as... good... for that matter." The word 'good' was said with such a twisted sneer, like it was the worst quality one could possibly have.

"So I alone remind you of all these bad things?"

"At the moment, yes. Tough, huh?"

"But you know it's absurd to blame me for any of that!"

He made a derisive sound. "I'm not stupid, Granger. Of course that would be absurd. Rather, I was as spoiled and self-indulgent as you've ever thought me to be and, congratulations, I ended up paying the price. I'm sure it makes you happy to know that. Unfortunately, your happiness isn't something I'm currently in a position to appreciate."

So she reminded him that he'd been spoiled and got in trouble? No, if the way he glared at her was any indicator, it was far worse than that. She couldn't help the uneasy feeling rising inside her. She knew for a fact that due to his young age, unfortunate influences, and willingness to cooperate after the war he hadn't received any official punishment after the war. "What, involving me, could you possibly have paid a price for?"

"You'll never know."

"But you'll still hate me for it?"

He didn't reply but his dark gaze said it all.

She took a deep breath. "You know what I think? I think you hate yourself but find it easier to take it out on me."

"Of course you do. Don't go there, Granger."

"You shouldn't hate yourself."

"Don't!"

His voice had been raised and sharpened in clear warning as he gave that one-word command, but she still soldiered on. "It was such a long time ago, and whilst I certainly can't speak for everyone, I know that I've decided to forgive y--"

A sudden movement and sharp noise gave her quite a fright as he'd abruptly jumped out of his chair and smacked his hands down on his desk. "I said, 'don't!'" he hissed.

"Why?" she challenged, pretending that her heart wasn't trying to beat its way out of her chest.

He sneered at her. "Because you're not qualified to speak those words." And then, without as much as another glance in her direction, he simply walked out, leaving her confused and alone in his office.

* * *

The kisses made her forget why she shouldn't want them, why she shouldn't want him. She knew better--really, she did!--but she'd never felt like this before. If she did what she ought, what if she'd never feel like this again? She knew it was only physical, but didn't that only make it more excusable? Or was it too shallow and inexcusable, then? Should she want this boy? Was there any way to justify wanting him?

She broke the kiss, needing to think, but he wasn't discouraged by it. He just kissed her neck instead and, Merlin, that felt nice. She tried to make him stop, so she could clear her head, but he dismissed her. "Don't think so much. Just feel."

He was holding her up against a wall, touching her intimately, making her thrash with the want. So good. She wanted it so much. Thinking was overrated.

Suddenly she was cold and alone again, and she blinked in confusion to see that he was standing a few steps away, his grey eyes cold and hard as stone. "You hate me," she said, feeling her stomach sink as she voiced the indisputable fact. She wished he would stop hating her. She had a feeling that if only he would stop hating her, things could be so very good between them. She'd missed him so much. All she wanted was to be with him.

"That’s right I do," he said, his voice twisted with loathing. "I hate you and your two friends, The Boy Who Stalks and sidekick Beggar Boy, with all my heart. That doesn’t keep me from wanting to fuck you."

Hermione opened her eyes to stare at the dark. The Boy Who Stalks? Beggar Boy? It sounded like something Malfoy would've said a decade ago, given half the chance, but why he would do so in the middle of her otherwise quite promising dream, she had no idea. She felt very put off by how it had ended. The dreams weren't likely to become reality, so why was reality intruding on her otherwise enjoyable fantasies?

It was eerie that she was having another one of those dreams, though. She definitely ought to keep a log of them if she had more. A detailed log. For science!

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Secrets, Chapter 2/15

2012-09-27T06:01:38Z

Title: Secrets
Series: Silencio
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit derivative work based on the world and characters of J. K. Rowling.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut
Main Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Story Warnings: Dubious Consent, Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Psychological Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nine years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione decides to take a holiday from her life to work out who she is and what she wants to do with herself. She soon gets the feeling that Draco Malfoy might be the key to her salvation, but Draco seems to be consumed by a need to keep secrets that are destroying him and does not want her interfering. Armed with a determination to save someone who doesn't want to be saved, she sets out to see how he might fit into the oddly shaped puzzle that is her life.
Credit: Thank you to dollfaced, namelessamelie and mazvn for the comprehensive beta and filigree1 for the Britpick. Extra thank you to dollfaced for the banner.
Chapter Length: 7,179

* * *

Draco felt a prickling on his skin and looked up to see a pair of wide brown eyes looking at him almost accusingly before suddenly they rolled back in their owner's head and Hermione Granger collapsed.

At first he didn't react, he just stared, but then Carys followed his gaze and with a shriek, she ran to the unconscious form and knelt. "What happened?" she demanded of him whilst she carefully felt Granger's forehead.

"How should I know?" he retorted, shoving his hands in his pockets because they somehow didn't seem to want to unclench. He had a hard time relaxing around Granger as it was, and to have this happen was... annoying. "I just looked at her and she passed out. It doesn't happen all that often, you know." He hadn't even known she'd be here. He did his best to avoid her at all times, sometimes simply resorting to sit around in his office or his private rooms. Of course she would be there to ruin it on the one night he was finally looking for some diversion again. Why wouldn't she be? It would all be too easy if she weren't.

"It couldn't be the drink," Carys muttered. "I'm certain I only brought her one and she didn't even finish it."

"Maybe she'd had a head start?" Draco suggested. Yeah, swotty goody-goody Hermione Granger hitting the drink. That was bloody likely. But then again... they all had their demons, didn't they?

Carys shook her head, dismissing the idea as well. "No, not this one. She was sober and not looking to drink. Just looking to not be completely alone as she read her book, I suspect. That's why I brought the drink to her, so she wouldn't need to work through the crowd."

Draco's jaw clenched right along with his fists, and he looked away from the witches on the floor, scowling at a few goggling patrons. Everyone was looking to not be alone. Big fucking deal. "Well, something has to be done," was what he said out loud. Rather state the obvious than have Carys become cross with him for his lack of compassion. He wasn't in the mood to have Carys become cross with him tonight.

"You're right." Carys carefully stroked Granger's cheek and then got up, wiping her hands on her robes. "She's the new teacher, isn't she? We could bring her to a room here, but I think she'll be more comfortable in her own bed, and there's a nurse right handy up there. Someone will have to bring her back to the castle."

Now there was a plan. Get the bushy-haired ghost away from there so other people--himself, in particular--could resume their evening. "Who?" he blithely asked.

"You, that's who!"

"Me?" There was no way in hell! He couldn't stand even looking at Granger, and now Carys would have him carry her back to Hogwarts? "I'm not a Healer," he objected, "and I had other plans for tonight." As Carys very well knew since she rather was his plans.

She gave him one of those looks that he tended to associate with females. "Consider those plans cancelled."

He tamped down the urge to groan. "You're really not very good at bribing me to do this."

She rested her hands on her hips and glared at him. "And I'd be more of a mind to reward you if you weren't being such a git about it!"

Granger moved her head to the side and softly moaned. If he were lucky, she would come to and be fine, and they could all forget this nonsense. She'd probably merely forgotten to eat or some such other vain female idiocy.

Yeah, because Granger was the type for that. What was he even thinking? She was far too practical to pass out from hunger.

Carys frowned. "Who's Marilyn?"

Draco blinked and then stared at her. "You heard her say something?"

"Please. I take orders from drunks in this ruckus all the time. So, who's Marilyn?"

He shrugged. The familiarity of the name was really uncomfortable but it couldn't be the Marilyn he remembered. Granger didn't remember anything that had happened between them years ago, least of all the small part Marilyn Shaw had played; he was one hundred percent sure of that. He'd watched for signs that she might remember something every time he'd been forced to be around her these past few weeks, but she was... blank. There was nothing there. He couldn't quite decide if that relieved or agitated him. On the one hand, he was so very tired of keeping so many secrets and making sure that others kept them as well, but on the other hand, she could never remember. At this point, the knowledge could do nothing but destroy. Her mind could shatter from having to adapt to such a large shift of her reality, and his world would narrow quite a bit until it only contained the inside of the walls of Azkaban. It could never be worth it.

When Carys kept staring expectantly at him, he dismissed his own fears as paranoia and merely said, "I don't know. Maybe a friend of hers?"

"Her girlfriend, maybe?" Carys knelt again. "We do have to get her off this cold floor whether you like it or not, Draco."

He wrinkled his nose. "Don't be absurd."

Carys shot him another look. "It's absurd to get her off the floor?"

"No, the other bit. I, uh, knew her ex-fiancé. Talk about being a git. Sometimes I've had my doubts whether he had the intelligence to qualify for the title of human being, but he was male."

"And ex could be the operative word here. People change and they discover who they are." She carefully felt Granger's forehead. "Sometimes, they aren't who you think they are, at all. Sometimes, they even surprise themselves." Carys had completely ignored Draco's digs at Ronald Weasley, which made them far less satisfying. But then, she didn't know the wizard, so why had Draco even bothered? Old habits died hard, it seemed.

"Right. You have anything you want to tell me, then?" It was more of a distraction than a legitimate question. She was projecting far too much of herself onto this boring little miss that Granger had become, and seeming far too interested in what she saw. Carys was a rather... giving... person and not one to accept any limitations society might want to impose upon her. He liked that about her. It meant that when he wasn't in the mood for a girlfriend, she had at least one other lover to entertain her. Everybody won. The only problem was the way she was looking at Granger. He really didn't want to share his girlfriend with his... well, ex-girlfriend, he supposed. Talk about awkward. For him.

"Oh, I believe you know everything you need to know about me," Carys sharply said, "but what you seem not to know is that if you don't get this witch home before she gets pneumonia from lying on my floor, you can forget about me being available for your pleasure for a good long while!"

"I'd actually already worked that out," he muttered and then sighed.

He just really, really didn't like being around Granger. He had been prepared for the unpleasantness when he'd learned she was coming to Hogwarts. He'd actually been almost surprised at how, the first time he'd seen her, he'd felt absolutely nothing but the predictable resentment that she couldn't stay out of his life. But he feared that if pushed too far tonight, he might actually explode. Or vomit. It was a feeling he could have lived without, but unfortunately it wasn't anything new. Already before Granger had decided to upset his life, Draco had been straining against his own mental limits quite often. Now, her very presence in the same bloody castle as him seemed to drain him to a degree where those limits were always staring him in the face.

It had been a long time since he'd seen her before she'd moved here. A long time. After the war, he had opted not to redo his seventh year because she had been redoing hers. After that, when she'd got a job at the Ministry, he'd opted to avoid any and all functions she might possibly go to, and he'd completely avoided the building itself. Merlin, even that one time he'd been in trouble with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for some minor offence, he'd doled out considerable bribes simply to keep her off the case.

He simply hadn't been able to keep her from coming here. He'd actually tried as hard as he could without revealing himself. He'd had her superiors offering her promotions, and he'd had a few other job offers that she should have found interesting thrown at her--his family still had some influence, after all--but she'd stayed determined. Then, when it had been clear that she was decided, he'd swallowed his bitter disappointment at once again having had his life turned over by her, and had offered the Headmistress his own resignation. She had refused to accept it. After a heated debate about whether or not he could break his contract before it ran out--she had much stricter contracts drawn than Dumbledore had had in his day--she'd finally resorted to blackmail to keep him in his position until at least the end of this year. If he left, she'd said, then she would write a book based on the memories of his part in the war that they had wrangled from him in exchange for allowing him to work at Hogwarts. A damn book. Where was the confidentiality in that? They'd only been given access to those memories in order to definitively prove that he wasn't evil and wouldn't abuse his position. It hadn't even been something he'd wanted to do. It had been either doing that and come live and work here as part of his recovery plan, or stand before the Wizengamot and face full public scandal and censure.

And now he actually quite liked it here, which was of course why the fates had thrown Granger at him.

Fortunately, there was one part of his memories even they didn't have access to. He'd been able to remain vague about a lot of what had come before the actual war and had thereby preserved his biggest secret and heaviest burden even as they plied him with potions and poked around in his mind. That part was making him angry and nauseated whenever he thought about it, even though any other emotions tied to it had been long since buried and all but forgotten. It was the part where he had been secretly seeing Hermione Granger for months, only to ultimately abuse her trust and violate her mind to make her forget about their time together. He'd done it in the name of keeping her safe, but to be honest, he'd always been glad he'd done it. And once he'd come to his senses, he'd never had any inclination to reverse it.

He merely didn't want to have to be near her. And he felt that he'd come to understand exactly why that was: he still very much feared being revealed and he hated her. He hated her for forcing that secret on him. He hated her for not allowing him to be as blissfully unaware as she was. He hated her for all the times over the years where he had been paralysed with fear that this time they would find him out. He hated her for not marrying her beloved Ron Weasley after the war and being bloody happy. He hated her for coming here and disturbing his peace.

It wasn't rational. If put on the spot, he didn't think he could explain coherently exactly why he resented her so much for these things. Perhaps it was because of the time she represented; a time he himself would have loved to be allowed to forget in its entirety. A time filled with nothing but gut-wrenching fear and desperation. A time where every day he'd died a little inside, whilst desperately trying to figure out what kind of atrocities he'd have to perform in order to save his parents. In order to save himself. In order to save her. He hadn't done very well saving her. She'd still had to endure all kinds of hardships, some of which he'd even had to witness. But she'd had her Potter and her Weasley, and ultimately she was alive, so he'd always chosen to count it as a victory. He had so preciously few of those.

He didn't honestly mind continuing to protect them both from her finding out the truth for the rest of his life, but why did she have to be here?

"Look, she's coming to!" Carys said, interrupting Draco's train of thoughts.

He looked down on the petite witch that he was wasting all of this anger on, as she slowly began stirring. It was really quite ridiculous that she should do such a number on his self-control by merely existing, so he resolved to try not to let her get to him. What was in the past was in the past, right? She didn't even remember, so holding her responsible was really rather pointless. Hating her was merely a waste of energy. Maybe if he told himself all of this often enough, eventually that burning need to yell at her, strangle her, forcibly remove her from his life so he could feel at ease again, would disappear.

"Are you all right?" Carys was asking Granger, as Granger was struggling to sit up.

"I... think so," Granger said, rubbing her head, freeing more hair from that loose bun she had tried to tame it with, making it into an even more disastrous mess.

Carys carefully helped Granger to her feet, whilst Draco merely stood by, silently watching. He didn't have the most helpful nature to begin with, and Granger had already used up her quota a long time ago. In fact, she'd pretty much used up everyone else's quota as well.

"What happened?" Carys asked, carefully dusting off Granger's robes. To her credit, she didn't even seem to try and cop a feel. But then again, for someone as advanced in her sexual tastes and habits as Carys, she was rather nurturing even towards complete strangers. That was a rarity in Draco's experience, and one of the reasons why Carys intrigued him. He'd quite possibly found the only truly good woman, who could deal with his general lack of commitment.

"I don't know," Granger muttered. "I saw... " She turned towards Draco and stopped as she noticed him, apparently remembering what she saw. "Him... " she confirmed, loosely pointing at him. "And then... then I felt odd, and I suppose I fainted." She frowned at Carys. "Hey, you remind me of someone."

"Marilyn?" Carys guessed, making Draco curse inwardly. If the whole Marilyn thing and Granger passing out was connected, then it was definitely not a good sign that both the Marilyn of their school days and Carys were pretty, busty, straight-forward blondes, and that it had happened whilst he had been speaking to Carys. What were the odds of such a coincidence, anyway? He didn't even have a type; his current lover could have had any kind of look. Except that he seemed to have an aversion to bookish types with wild hair, of course, but that was beside the point.

"Who?" Granger asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

For a second Carys looked stumped, but then she simply smiled and stroked Granger's cheek once more. "Never mind, pet. But you'd best go and see your nurse up at the castle. You know, make sure you're taken care of if you're ill or pregnant."

Granger burst out laughing but quickly checked herself. "I'm sorry," she said with a small grimace. "Fairly certain I'm not pregnant, though."

Carys gave Granger a friendly smile. "You never know. The spells and potions can fail. Sometimes the brewer is just not good enough, or you cast the spell too eagerly or--"

"I think she meant she hasn't engaged in any baby-making activities," Draco offered, somewhat amused that the thought didn't even seem to occur to Carys--especially after Carys's theory that Granger might like witches now.

His amusement rose as Carys immediately looked embarrassed and confused and just uttered a small, "Ah."

And it certainly didn't detract from it that Granger seemed to rediscover his presence and went completely red. Yet he was hardly surprised that she didn't know how to have any fun. She had never known. Well, except for that one very brief moment in time where she had actually loosened up a little. Too bad she hadn't developed those skills better. For her own sake. Maybe then she could've held on to her fiancé and not come bother Draco in his nice little bubble up here.

"In any case," Carys said, her slight embarrassment gone, "Draco here will walk you safely back."

"Wait, Draco Malfoy?" Granger asked, as if it weren't glaringly obvious who Carys had meant. "You positive that he isn't planning to drown me in a ditch or something?"

He ignored her. "Will you be awake if I make it back?" he asked Carys, really more interested in whether or not he would be getting some long-needed release tonight than whether Granger would be passing out again.

Carys held up her hand for him to wait whilst she frowned at Granger. "Drown you in a ditch? Why would he do that?"

Apart from all the obvious reasons?

"Last I checked, he hated anyone that wasn't a pure-blood," Granger said, eyeing him suspiciously, a calculating quality to her look that gave Draco pause. No, she wouldn't be telling his girlfriend these things simply to gauge where he stood on blood matters these days, would she? "Especially me, because I wasn't as he thought a Muggle-born should be." Her eyes flickered between Carys and Draco to measure their reactions. Apparently, she would. And she couldn't even be subtle about it, either.

Carys's frown deepened. "I'm half-blood, for the record, not that it's anyone's business. And how should you be?"

"You have to forgive Granger," Draco cut in before Granger could talk his girlfriend into breaking it off with him, leaving him without any fun in the foreseeable future. "She's still living in the nineties where I was a schoolboy, taking my father's teachings to heart. If I don't particularly care for her, it has nothing to do with her blood status." The last was said with a warning glance in her direction.

"Hmh." Carys watched Granger thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Well, I suppose it's quite a lot to ask you to trust him, but maybe you can trust me? I trust him not to kill you. At least not tonight."

Draco smirked at that. But he was rapidly getting sick of this conversation. "Come on, Granger," he irritably said, moving towards the door. "If I'm going to kill you, I promise you it'll be when I'm not the most likely suspect. I'd probably murder you in your bed. Or, better yet, poison your tea!"

"Be nice!" Carys called.

Draco made a dismissive hand wave at her and Granger reluctantly followed him. But seeing as he'd never got Carys to respond to whether she would be up later or not, there was really no point in him going back. Damn it! He could have used the stress relief. What he got instead was the privilege of having to babysit his least favourite person in the world.

He really was cursed.

* * *

"So... that's your girlfriend, then?" Granger asked, breaking what Draco had felt was a very agreeable silence. Especially when combined with the fact that Granger was walking at least nine feet off to the side of him. He could almost imagine she wasn't there as long as she didn't speak.

No matter how he tried to look at it, there wasn't any way he could make himself feel comfortable talking to her. All it would take was the tiniest slip, and he risked her over-active brains would connect some dots other people didn't see and she'd know. It brought him out in a cold sweat just to think about it.

Still, she'd asked a question and, so, he'd better reply. "Yeah... " he muttered.

"Oh, good," she said, her voice slightly muffled from the cloak she had wrapped tightly around herself. "I thought... well, for a second I thought that she might... never mind."

Draco glanced at her, at first slightly confused and annoyed that she didn't just make her point, but then something clicked and he slowly smirked. Wouldn't this be something for the prissy, sheltered school madam to take in. "Oh, she might."

Granger's eyes widened and then narrowed. "You're just lying to make me feel uncomfortable. It's not working. She's very pretty, isn't she? I'd be flattered."

"She was interested in you," Draco bluntly said. "Flirting, even. If there were no objections from anyone involved, she'd get together with you in a heartbeat."

Granger's eyes widened again and her step faltered. "What... you mean like a threesome?"

"Not with me, no." He adamantly shook his head. He never wanted to touch Hermione Granger again. Ever. The very thought was enough to almost bring that suffocating feeling he sometimes had of complete and utter hopeless fear and panic to the front again, so he ruthlessly killed the thought and concentrated on his breathing as he continued, "Other than that, you'd have to ask her how she'd want you." Now there was a mental image he probably shouldn't delve into either, although it at least didn't bring out the panic.

"And you're ok with that?" Granger incredulously asked.

"Not at all," Draco said, not seeing any reason to withhold the truth on this one. "And you should take that personally, since I usually am."

That should have shut Granger up but naturally it didn't. "So, generally, you're fine with your girlfriend openly wanting someone else in front of you?"

That was sort of personal, wasn't it? "I would thank you not to impose your ideas of how a relationship should work on me," he very stiffly said. Monogamy wasn't everybody's ideal, but trust someone like Granger not to understand that.

"I'm not imposing," she objected. "I'm just... curious. I thought I read a few years back that you had become engaged to some rich witch, and if I had thought about it, I would have assumed that you would have married her and had children by now. Instead you're here, teaching, and have this unusual arrangement with some barmaid at the--"

He swiftly got in her path, cutting up her speech in the process as she warily looked up at him. Good. She should be wary of him. Tonight, he wasn't above hurting her, making her suffer. Making her pay. "It's none of your business," he coldly said.

Her eyes softened a little bit. "I know we aren't friends," she quietly said. "But we should at least make an effort to get along. Maybe if we got to know each other a little better, eliminating the views we had of each other as kids... "

Draco felt a tic just below his right eye, as the headache and the nausea began setting in. She was looking up at him with those damn big, brown eyes of hers again, and all he wanted to do was introduce pain to her world.

A brief flash entered his mind, a memory he'd almost managed to suppress. Those eyes, filled with tears, begging him to let her remember. Begging him not to erase what they'd had.

So what? She'd known pain, but only for a minute. He'd suffered the repercussions much longer than that. The endless fear that if he had even one unguarded moment, the Dark Lord would look into his mind, and he'd see everything. Even after the war had ended and that monster was dead, he hadn't been able to relax. All it took was eye contact with one wrong person, one drop of Veritaserum, one slip of the tongue... She'd never know any of the lengths he'd gone to in order to protect her, even after they'd both moved on, and he hated her for it.

"She cheated on me," he heard himself tonelessly say. "My fiancée. We had no arrangements allowing for sexual relationships with other people, so the trust was broken. I wasn't going to marry her after that."

New memories flooded his mind. Memories of tears, shouting, accusations. He'd done his best, and it still hadn't been good enough. He'd been broken since the war, his fiancée had said, sobbing. Unable to truly care, let alone love, she'd claimed. It hadn't been true. He'd loved her. He'd wanted to make a family with her. He had done everything he possibly could to show her his devotion and how he'd been looking forward to sharing his life with her. And she'd said he treated her as if she was some animal he would like to breed. She had accused him of caring more about her pedigree than about her person. Then she'd said he wouldn't be able to love a child either, that he would warp it into a cold, unfeeling beast like himself. That he would make a terrible father and she was only marrying him because her parents were forcing her to go through with it.

So he'd ended the farce and made sure her parents didn't punish her by painting himself as even more of a beast than she'd accused him of being. He simply hadn't cared what people thought of him any longer. So he'd slept around, fallen down drunk in public places, and had even experimented with some highly illegal potions and powders, ending up in some very discreet facilities at his parents' expense, and then ultimately here. Taking care of other people's children, ironically. Last he'd heard, his ex-fiancée was living with her lover somewhere on the Mainland. Possibly they were married now. There might even be children that weren't cold, unfeeling beasts.

She'd been right about him in some ways, though. Monogamy was not for him. Marriage was not for him. Children he actually had to care about were not for him. How could he have any of that? He'd lied, cheated, stolen, manipulated and used spells and potions that no decent person should even know in order to keep his secret. The ironic thing was that what he'd worked so hard to keep hidden was now meaningless in itself. So what if he'd had sex with some girl when he'd been sixteen? Who cared about a few poor choices, really? He'd been a child forced to fight in his father's war. But now, because of everything he'd done to protect that secret, he had no choice but to continue protecting it. Forever.

Everybody knew that there was something he wasn't telling them. Everyone. It had become such a large part of who he was that it was now impossible for him to imagine a life where he didn't jealously guard and protect memories that now felt like they were from another lifetime. What witch could possibly want to build a life with him and still accept that he would never confide in her? That he would never confide in anyone, not even his Healers? His parents had been dogging him to give another of their very eligible witches a try now that they considered him as cured as he could be, but what was the point? He refused to marry purely out of some sense of duty to his family name. He did not feel that sense of duty. He hadn't felt it since his father's dedication to keeping the wizarding world pure and untainted had ruined Draco's life.

Two years with the intense stress of constant death threats would ruin anyone's life, but everything both Granger and his father had forced on him were the gifts that simply kept on giving.

"I'm sorry," Granger offered. He knew she was referring to the loss of his fiancée, but the timing was impeccable and only angered him further.

"I don't care," he coldly replied.

"You know, it's odd," Granger said, frowning slightly and seemingly ignoring his dismissal. "I have this... feeling... "

Draco's lips curled into a mocking leer. "I'm sorry. It's not reciprocated."

She scoffed at him. "Don't be stupid. No, it's a feeling that I... that I know you better than anyone thinks. It's quite silly, and I have no idea where it comes from, but it started just now before I fainted and... I don't actually dislike you... exactly." Her frown deepened. "Although I do feel some rather irrational anger towards you. Do you have any idea what that could mean?"

Her words only slowly sunk in as his brain refused to accept their meaning, but when they did it was as if an ice-cold hand grabbed hold of his chest and wouldn't let go, wouldn't let him breathe.

His nightmares were coming true.

* * *

"Are you all right?" The words seemed to come from far away.

Focus. It could be nothing. And even if it's something, it can still be fixed.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Draco's own voice seemed hollow. "I suppose I'm tired." He resumed walking without bothering to check if she was going to follow. They were almost there. Now how to get her to accept the potion that would make sure she wouldn't remember anything important? He'd always felt a little insane for keeping an extra phial of this particular liquid around for the past decade, but now he was very glad. The annual ritual of re-brewing it suddenly didn't seem so stupid, since brewing it on the spot would have taken too long. He needed to make certain that she didn't begin to remember. Tonight.

"Ow, my head hurts," she suddenly whinged, burying one hand in her hair to cup where the pain was coming from.

"Headache?" he quickly said. "I have potions for that in my quarters. Come along, and I'll give them to you."

He knew he had overdone it even before he caught Granger's suspicious look. She knew he wanted her as far from his personal space as humanly possible, so of course this would make her cautious. "Why?" she asked.

He merely shrugged, trying hard to seem unaffected in spite of feeling positively clammy. "I was just being polite. And I thought you wanted us to be friends."

Granger snorted without much force behind it.

"Forget it," he said. "Enjoy your headache." He would have to find another way to get her to drink it. He couldn't conceal it in her usual beverages, because she needed to drink it all at once, so whatever he came up with had to be good.

Granger stumbled and then drew her cloak even tighter around herself. Were her teeth clattering?

"You're clearly not well," he said by way of observation. She shouldn't be freezing and stumbling--it wasn't really that cold and the moon was bright. Something was wrong. Could her memories really trigger like this? God, he hoped not.

"I realise that, thank you!" she bit back. "I think I may have a fever. Maybe that's why my head is so... confused."

Draco swallowed, but the motion hurt, because his mouth had gone completely dry. Think, man, think!

"You know what?" Granger murmured, her voice slightly slurred. "I actually do want a potion. I'm... a bit off. Your quarters are on the sixth floor same as my new one, right? A little closer than the hospital wing." She sniggered. "Madam Vera is pretty, maybe you can talk her into rewarding you for helping a soul in need."

Yes! She had willingly placed herself in a position where he had a fairly good chance of getting her to drink the potion that would once again suppress her memories, hopefully this time for good, and make his nightmare go away. "I'd get quite the beating if I attempted that," he absent-mindedly said. Vera was a very good friend of his, at least sometimes he thought so, but she wasn't about to suffer any man trying to get into her knickers.

"I thought you were just doing whatever or whoever you wanted. Oh, how you disappoint me." Granger sighed. "You were lying about that, weren't you?"

Draco had a hard time figuring out what was doing the talking just now. Was it the few sips of butterbeer she'd had, the resurfacing memories, the fever that may or may not be there, or simply an overly tired Granger? "I wasn't lying," he replied to her accusation, without bothering to correct her misunderstanding of who would do the beating. It was none of her business that he didn't sleep around even if he could, and that Carys preferred multiple relationships. After a few years of testing exactly how addicted to sex he was, Draco had finally figured that as long as it came in a somewhat steady supply, he didn't need overly much of it. Carys served his needs well enough on her own. He didn't need anyone else. She, on the other hand, was getting everything he couldn't give her from someone else. It was the perfect relationship for someone like him.

"I suppose she was flirting with me," Granger said.

"Yes. It appears she's in the market for someone new. Or maybe she simply likes fainting brunettes."

Granger shook her head and muttered, "Wow."

"Never mind her, Granger," Draco said. "You won't be testing your curiosity on her in the near future, since she wouldn't be with anyone I disapprove of."

"I wasn't going to--"

He snorted. He actually didn't believe she had been considering it, but this might prove just the thing to distract her from remembering anything.

Granger scowled. "And what's with all the disapproval?" she asked.

Draco sighed for effect. "I simply don't like you." At least that much was true. "And does my approval even matter if you weren't considering it?"

She blushed a little bit. "No, of course not," she muttered. "But it does make me wonder..."

"What?"

"Why do you feel the need to constantly tell me you don't like me?"

He found himself becoming unsettled. "I--what? I don't feel a need--"

"Then why have you already told me, what, three or four times tonight?"

"Maybe because I really don't?"

She snorted at him. "Right. If I didn't know any better, Malfoy, I'd almost think you were scared of me."

Well, shit. She really was far too observant. "Don't be ridiculous..." he muttered, unwilling to argue the point. Arguments tended to bring out truths. He couldn't afford that. He couldn't afford any of this.

She shivered again and looked so miserable that Draco almost considered offering her his cloak. If he did, he could use it later to score points with Carys. He didn't like Granger touching his things, though.

"Why are you teaching?" Granger asked, sounding almost drowsy.

"Didn't we have this conversation before?" And why was she being so damn chatty?

"I simply don't understand. You never struck me as the nurturing kind."

"I hate to say it, Granger, but neither did you."

"I'm not. I'm hiding."

Draco did a double-take. That was a little too honest for his comfort. "Aren't there better places to hide? Personally, I'd hide on a tropical island somewhere... "

She made a little grunt that he supposed was meant to be another snort. "No, you wouldn't. You'd hide here as well."

"Look who thinks she knows things," Draco muttered.

"I do know things. You're hiding."

Draco's heart skipped a beat and his throat was constricting as he once again had to battle the growing panic. Why wouldn't she stop analysing him? "From whom?" he asked as carelessly as he could.

"I don't know... " Granger screwed up her face, apparently giving this matter great thought. "Maybe your ex-fiancée?"

He relaxed somewhat. "No, that would be you doing that." Good one! Only, he didn't feel quite as triumphant as he normally would. He didn't want her to know about his life; he didn't want her to care.

"Right. Well, I'm sure that with your winning personality there are several people that would fit the bill," she drily stated.

"Charming."

"Why, thank you!"

His only reply to that was a disgruntled sound, and they walked the rest of the way in blessed silence.

* * *

Granger was still firmly clutching her cloak closed as she entered Draco's office and upon closer--not too close, mind you--inspection, Draco realised that her teeth were clattering.

He wasn't sure what to do.

First, however, he pushed the hidden door to his private rooms open and fetched her a blanket. He didn't need for her to die from pneumonia in a way that made him culpable.

But then what?

Given some of her symptoms, he was genuinely terrified to turn her over to Madam Vera. If they realised Granger's memories had been tampered with and they restored them... then everything would be for nothing. He didn't want to go to Azkaban, and she didn't need to remember that her first time had been with him on some desk in this castle, and that he'd threatened her to keep quiet afterwards. She didn't need to remember that whilst he'd been planning the invasion of the castle and ultimately Dumbledore's death, they'd been having an affair and she'd naïvely fallen for him. She really didn't need to remember that he'd betrayed and rejected her in the most final of ways, wiping her memories clean of everything they'd had, leaving tiny little cracks in her mind that could so easily crumble into gaping holes if tampered with again.

If he kept it a secret, then not only could he remain free, but she stood a better chance of one day being happy. Even disregarding the threat to her sanity, she wouldn't be torn up and broken inside from remembering exactly how horrible the war had been. Remembering that she'd been in love with someone who'd refused to change his ways, and who had less than a year later silently looked on as his aunt had tortured her. What did it matter how it had felt to him that he'd had to remain passive or give everything away? It didn't. His actions spoke louder than words.

If she remembered the betrayal, it would damage her. Like it had damaged him. So many things had damaged him, but realising exactly how much he could allow a loved one to go through without ever doing anything about it out of fear... that was the source of most of his self-loathing, even to this day.

"You're so quiet," she forced out through her clattering teeth. "Hoping I'll freeze to death if you wait long enough?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "I gave you a blanket, didn't I? I was considering whether I have to wake up Madam Vera, or whether I can fix this myself."

"You can heal?" She'd wrapped the blanket tightly around herself, but looked as if she was immersed in ice rather than wrapped in a thick cloak and a blanket. "I don't think a headache potion will be enough."

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But I do have some other potions that I think might work."

She immediately looked wary. "No, I don't want your potions! Get me Vera, please."

"I won't poison you, Granger," Draco said with a weary sigh. "Not in my own office after at least a dozen people saw me take you from the Three Broomsticks."

"I just... suddenly have this feeling that potions from you are a bad thing, so I'll pass."

He almost choked on the chills going through him at that statement. "One potion," he insisted. "If it doesn't work, I'll get you Madam Vera immediately. I promise."

She looked extremely wary, but reluctantly nodded and he went to get the potion. He didn't even really know why he had it. It must be some kind of masochistic urge that prompted him to continuously make it. Years ago when the war had ended and he'd realised he could never give Granger the antidote, even if he'd wanted to, he'd begun brewing the original memory-erasing potion once a year, suspiciously close to the time where he'd first given it to her, but true to his promise he'd never drunk it himself. Each time he used the memories she'd forced him to keep--and he'd kept all of them, they were safely under lock and key, every single one--to brew it.

He'd found that the first time had been the hardest. He'd still wanted her then, and going through the memories to add what to remove had been agony. The second time had only been a little better. The third time, he'd almost felt normal before he'd had to relive it. The fourth time, he'd idly wondered if she was happy now, with Weasley. Every single time since then, he'd barely thought about it. It had become a ritual. A thing to soothe his anxieties about her some day remembering.

Now it had been made for the tenth time since she'd drunk it, and he would give it to her again. Somehow, it felt like he'd been waiting for it all these years.

"Here," he said, walking up to her with the phial. "You need to drink up. It doesn't taste like much, but you should immediately feel the effects."

She slowly reached out to accept it. "Um, could I get a glass of water with this?" she quietly asked.

He didn't see any reason to object, so he went back to his private quarters for a glass, and when he returned, Granger had a scrunched up face and an empty phial. He gave her the glass, and she drank it as if truly thirsty.

"I thought you said it didn't taste like much?" she finally said, gagging a little.

He shrugged, ridiculously happy and relieved that she'd taken the potion. "I obviously meant it didn't taste very good."

"Right." She scowled at him.

Some of her colour was returning, and her teeth seemed to have stopped clattering. Good. It didn't look like they were going to need Madam Vera after all.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

"A bit. I probably just need a good night's sleep now, and then I'll be fine."

Draco figured that was probably true. "Speaking of sleep, aren't you tired?" He searched her face for any evidence of fatigue.

As if on cue, she yawned. "You're right. I am. Best be going, then."

She got to her feet a bit unsteadily, but then she straightened her back and walked right out of there.

Yes, he thought. Everything is going to be all right now.

Next Chapter

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Master List

The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge, Chapter 10

2012-08-28T20:57:13Z

Title: The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Mild Kink, Mild Violence, Polyjuice (Body Switch), Profanity, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Threesome
Warning Note: I do not warn per chapter. What I warn for may be in chapter 1 or chapter 39 and they may or may not be what you expect them to be. If you have a very specific trigger, you can PM me for details pertaining to that specific thing, otherwise tough luck, cookie.
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Through a series of uncontrollable events and deliberate decisions, Draco and Hermione are now, a little more than a decade after the war, both working as Aurors. Draco is a complete git and the only one who'll pair up with him for anything is Hermione. This is suiting her less and less, though, so she tries to open his eyes to all the things that have changed. An open-eyed Draco, however, is a force to be reckoned with.
Extra Note: Thank you to margotlefaye (chapter 1-5), dollfaced and mazvn for the beta and robs55 (chapter 1-7) and filigree (chapter 8+) for the Britpick. You guys rock! You saved this story. :D
Chapter Length: 4,958

* * *

Hermione held her breath, refusing to take it personally if Draco declined taking her again. She'd given him an opportunity to redeem himself and it was entirely up to him whether he was going to take it. She didn't delude herself into thinking he would feel better about this time than he had about the last time, and she knew that he'd probably treat her with the same, if not worse, derision.

The way she saw it, however, was that she didn't really have anything to lose, and she really wanted him inside her in the kind of hard, punishing fuck that his behaviour promised. If he could deliver on that, she foresaw an epic climax that would definitely help her ignore his betrayal and disgust.

She could feel him breathing heavily against her ear, his erection still pressed against her back. 'You're one evil little bitch, did you know that?' he whispered, his voice hoarse.

'And yet you want me,' she replied, not hiding her smirk. 'How does that make you feel, Drakie-poo?'

He reached forward and yanked at her blouse in a manner meant to destroy it. 'Dirty,' he growled in her ear. 'Pathetic.' He pushed the torn cloth and her skirt and knickers to the floor, with complete disregard for her consent or comfort. 'Violent.'

Hermione was getting gooseflesh from the chill of the room. Although maybe it wasn't entirely from the room temperature. Anticipation was knotting in her stomach again, and her every nerve-ending was tingling with it, her nipples hardening at the prospect of even the slightest touch. She wanted it so much.

She heard the rustle of him removing at least some of his own clothes, but he still kept her trapped between the door and his body. She hoped so badly that he would take her here, like this.

His one hand came around, pressing against her belly, and his other hand went to her back, applying pressure, forcing her to take a step back and lean forward, still braced on that damn door. Satisfied with the result, he slid the hand from her belly up to her breasts whilst the hand on her back went down to cup her arse. He leant forward to murmur into her ear, 'This was how you wanted the small ones, correct?'

She mutely nodded.

'Then I guess it'll do for "adequate" ones as well.' He made a casual motion with his hand behind her, and suddenly his finger was inside her. The sensation was so unexpected that she couldn't keep back a moan. 'You're wet,' he observed, moving his finger inside her, making her squirm a bit. 'It's no great surprise, though, is it?' he continued. 'You'd be wet for anyone, wouldn't you?'

'N-no,' she gasped. 'Not--not anyone.' Her anger at the accusation was curiously absent, instead there was just some secret thrill. She was enjoying his anger.

He grabbed her breast hard. 'You're lying! If you can't talk without lying to me, don't talk at all. Is that clear?'

She nodded again, biting her lip. She should argue the point, she really should. But there was something about his voice and the way he touched her that really just made her want to obey him, for fear that he wouldn't continue if she didn't and... she really wanted him to continue.

'Good girl,' he breathed.

The hand on her breast slid down between her legs, seeking out the most sensitive area and playing with her, making her almost weak with the direct stimulation. From behind, he added another finger inside her and she whimpered, unable to help herself.

'Yeah, you like that, don't you,' he muttered. 'You're such a horny little thing.'

'Yes,' she whispered.

'Fucking one guy after another because nobody can subdue the burn for long. Squirming, offering yourself up like a bitch in heat.'

She gasped, not at the words, but at the way the sensations inside her intensified. He stepped a little closer, and she felt his naked cock pressing against her. Oh, how she wanted it. He didn't offer it, though. Instead he just silently kept the fingers of one hand rubbing over her in a circle motion, while the fingers of the other hand slid in and out of her. It was maddening. But not enough.

'I want you,' she finally said.

She was promptly rewarded--or punished, she wasn't sure which--by rougher, faster motions. 'You get what I decide to give you, nothing else,' he said.

Again that odd thrill. She really needed to re-examine her own issues. The feelings inside her were building, soaring... 'Please,' she stuttered, 'I'm so close.'

'Then come,' he said. 'Show me what a good slut you are.'

It was enough to send her over, to have her moan and tremble and contract around his fingers. He groaned as if in pain, but let her ride out the wave before he removed his hands, leaving her feeling empty and alone for the second it took him to finally, finally enter her in one hard stroke.

* * *

The aftershocks of her orgasm were still there. He'd entered her too soon. Suppressing a groan, Draco bit his lip and tried to think of something else. He could only imagine what had damaged her so badly that she'd come from being called a slut. He wasn't really much of a dirty-talker, but he'd been so angry and then he'd sensed that she'd actually liked it. He'd been right. She liked to be told what to do, and she liked to be told she was promiscuous and inferior.

How messed up was that?

And how messed up was it that he'd enjoyed doing it so far?

'Move,' she moaned, squirming against him.

Draco had to grab her hip hard to make her stand still. 'I'll move when I want to, witch,' he growled.

'Yeah? I thought the problem was that you really, really wanted to.' The taunt was ended on a breathy laugh.

He swatted her backside. 'Be nice or I'll leave.'

'You can do that?' She gyrated her hips just the tiniest bit against him.

'Want to find out?' He was bluffing; he really doubted he could. She was so hot and slick and tight around him, and it was all he could do to keep from surging ahead or groaning and babbling like a madman. His hand slid down between her legs again, lightly brushing against her, making her jump from the sensitivity. Still too soon.

Then she surprised him by saying, 'Nah, I suppose being a cold bastard has its perks.'

What? He'd been goaded into having sex with her in some creepy pub who-knew-where, and she called him cold? He couldn't believe what he was hearing--cold was the last thing he was! Fine. Who cared about lasting and making it good for her, anyway? He pulled back and roughly slammed into her again, almost making her lose her balance, and he didn't even give her time to recover from her surprise before he did it again, and again.

Sweet, heavenly bliss. He had no idea how she could feel so good. Maybe it was the way she always got his blood boiling with anger and how she'd unwittingly been teasing him for days with her eyes and her lips and her skin and...

Or maybe it was the way she clearly wanted him to take her. She was making sounds that were definitely from enjoyment and matching him thrust for thrust, demanding more, still taunting him with the feel of her and her scent and...

A desperate groan was ripped from him. He wasn't used to this. He didn't understand this. He didn't understand the sudden fire in him that she seemed to so easily be able to stoke. He didn't like it. It meant he wasn't in control, and he hated not being in control. He hated having this kind of fire for a witch who didn't care about him. He hated her for doing this to him. He hated her for making him respond and making him take her in this tacky, impersonal way in a disgusting little room of a disgusting little pub.

He became rougher with her. Harder. And she liked it. Worse, he liked it. He was going to come soon, and it would probably be as intense as last time.

And he hated it.

* * *

Hermione didn't know what suddenly drove him, what suddenly made him move so hard and fast, driving into her with so much force that she had to use considerable strength to keep enough distance from the door to keep her head from banging against it.

But she loved it.

This was the kind of mindless fuck she wanted.

'More,' she whispered.

'Never enough, is it?' he ground out. 'You'll never get enough.'

No, she wouldn't. Ever. He could pound into her until she was black and blue and she would still beg for more. She'd still want that feeling of his cock sliding into her, rubbing all the right spots. She was so, so close to coming again, and he was relentlessly moving, slamming into her like he was furious with her for making him like this. He probably was. She should make him furious more often.

He reached around and touched her between her legs again, making her gasp. So intense. He didn't keep touching her, though, he just grabbed hold of her hips once again and forcefully controlled her movements to be in time with his, slamming her hard against him as he slammed hard against her. He almost went too deep, hurting her on each thrust, but she didn't care. She loved it.

'Goddamn it, Hermione,' he growled. 'I'm...' He didn't finish the sentence, only moved faster.

She knew. He was close. She could sense the desperation in him that mirrored her own. He slid his hands up to grab her breasts, roughly, without any finesse, and she loved it.

'Come,' he whispered. 'Come for me again. Show me what it's like.'

Carefully placing her forearm against the door so he wouldn't accidentally brain her, Hermione freed up the other hand and reached down to touch herself. It took all of five seconds for the sensations to completely overwhelm her. The tingling in her breasts and between her legs intensified and then suddenly that big knot of tension in her belly tensed even more, drawing all of her being into it, and then releasing it in one glorious rush of ecstasy, making her moan and tremble and go weak in the knees. If he hadn't been holding her up, she would have slumped against the door.

'That's it,' he grunted, still moving. 'Th-that's...' He was breathing hard, but he hadn't come. Why hadn't he come?

He wrapped one hand around her throat and pulled her backwards a bit to nibble on her neck, never stopping. She was so sensitized that she felt herself throbbing, clenching around him... with a gasp, she realised she was coming again. She didn't really want to, but before she could check herself, she moaned and trembled, feeling her muscles clench almost painfully.

He let up a little, but didn't stop moving, didn't stop touching, didn't stop tasting. He wasn't grabbing her hard any more, though; he was caressing her, and his movements were less rough.

She didn't want him to slow down and take his time. She wanted him to come.

Deliberately, she turned her head and caught his lips, kissing him deeply, teasing him with her lips and tongue.

His orgasm was almost immediate.

* * *

The climax was so all-consuming that it took Draco a few minutes to regain full use of his brains again, but when he did, he wanted to punch the wall. He'd managed to stay in control through two of her orgasms and then he lost it on a kiss? He'd wanted to be the one in control. To be the one who decided when he'd come. And once again she'd one-upped him.

She was the one to break the silence as she leisurely bent down to pick up her torn and discarded clothes. 'I knew you were a kisser.'

Not his fault that her kisses were so damn erotic. 'Enlighten me on how you reached that conclusion.'

She shrugged, locating her wand and fixing her blouse before she even bothered putting on her underwear. 'You came on a kiss the last time too. Also, you seem to have a thing for intimacy.'

Yes, because a desire for intimacy was so damn unique. Everyone wanted it except her! Why couldn't she be normal? At least if she were normal, he wouldn't have to feel so damn confused about what was happening to him. 'And who knew you'd be getting all wet from being called a slut,' he shot back.

'You do realise that if you call me that out of bed, I'm still going to eviscerate you, right?' Her slightly shaky voice made him feel ashamed of himself. What was she doing to him? Why... why were they doing this?

He began getting dressed as well. He was so confused and frustrated he couldn't even voice his feelings. He didn't want this. He didn't. Yet at the same time, he couldn't get out of his head that this room had a bed and she shouldn't be leaving like this. 'I won't. And, I mean, I didn't leave you wanting. I could have.' He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, only that he was saying it wrong.

'I just love how men always seem to think that women's orgasms are optional.' She had her knickers and blouse on and was sliding up the skirt. He wasn't sure why this reverse striptease was almost as erotic to him as that kiss had been, but it was.

And... exactly what kind of men had she known? 'I just love how you keep comparing me to men I don't even know. Stop.'

'Sorry,' she muttered.

'I'm guessing it's been so long since you've been with someone worth your time that you automatically assume that nobody is.' He didn't understand it, he truly didn't. She was clever, she was pretty, and she was explosive both in bed and out of it. She wouldn't have any trouble finding a wizard to be with if she tried. Why didn't she try?

'I've been with plenty of worthy men,' she said. She was now fully dressed and looking at him. Her hair was all messed up. People would know what they had been doing. He liked that. Possibly only because he didn't know any of the people downstairs, but he wasn't actually sure.

The wizard she'd been talking to before would know too.

He shook his head. Why did he even care? 'No. You've had plenty of good fucks. Not the same thing. Someone worth your time would make sure you got home ok in the morning.'

'I never spend the night.'

Of course she didn't. He imagined he was very lucky indeed to have the privilege of her presence for entire nights whenever they went out on a case. Not that it was easy to appreciate such a privilege when she hogged the covers and beat on him on principle as soon as she woke. 'He would at the very least offer that you could,' he just said.

'I don't want a man "worth my time"; I want good fucks.'

'I know.' Which was essentially why Draco hadn't offered they could stay the night here. She was done, he was done, she wouldn't see any reason to stay.

Then, with a small wave, she left.

* * *

The problem with wizards like Draco Malfoy, Hermione decided, was that they had difficulties thinking outside the box. She was outside the box and therefore he thought he had to put her back in it. She liked her life box-free.

It wasn't that he'd said anything. He hadn't. But he looked at her when they were both at the office, and she could almost see his thought processes.

She wasn't stupid. She knew very well that he didn't like what they'd done. Or, rather, he'd liked it very much, but he didn't like the context. The only thing keeping him from trying to change said context of their relationship was that she'd--thankfully--let him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't available for that.

He got credit for thinking the thought, though. It had to be difficult for him to even consider her in a respectable fashion, what with his family and everything.

She knew that sometimes he wanted to say something, but she couldn't be certain whether he had something on his mind regarding what had happened or whether it was something else entirely. He would begin forming the first word of the first sentence and then he'd get a look of supreme annoyance and walk away.

He probably had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that he liked things as they were just as much as she did. He really needed to learn that sometimex sex was nothing more than sex and he didn't have to fix it. Everyone had got what they wanted and it had simply been... a pleasure.

Then one day, she discovered quite by accident that his scent had changed. She'd leant in over him to snatch his ink and froze mid-motion from the shock. His scent only ever changed whenever he was seeing someone--as if he tried to tailor himself to the witch, giving up who he really was. That he was seeing someone so soon came as a much bigger surprise to Hermione than it should have. It made sense, really. Draco was a serial monogamist who spent a lot of time searching for the perfect mate. He was doing the logical thing. Talk about double standards, though. Hadn't he been on her case for going after someone after only a couple of weeks? Typically male. It was all right for him to have fun, but she had to stay home and... have babies or something.

'What's wrong? You got a funny look on your face just now,' he told her, noticing her reaction.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember what she'd been doing. 'Nothing. Could you sign off on those?' She thrust the parchments she'd been cradling in one arm whilst she'd reached for his ink at him.

'It says I witnessed the search.'

'Yes.'

'But I didn't.'

'I know.'

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Granger, if you needed backup, why didn't you just ask?'

'Because I didn't. I do, however, need you to claim you backed me up so Harry won't have a fit.'

'Well, I won't.' He crossed his arms.

Hermione gaped. 'Oh, come on, that's not fair! I sign off when you ask me to!'

'I don't ask you to lie.'

'Oh, please. Like you really needed the authorisation for the use of Veritaserum you needed me to co-apply for the other day.'

His eyes narrowed. 'If you didn't believe I needed it, you shouldn't have signed off.'

'Fine,' she gritted out through her teeth. She needed to get away from his stupid fruity scent anyway. Was it apple? 'I'll get someone else to sign off.' She yanked the parchments back and turned away from him.

'You know nobody will, not even Weasley,' he told her, amused. 'But I'll offer you a trade.'

She turned back around to face him and raised an eyebrow at him, not quite breaking their unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened, but mocking him all the same.

He rolled his eyes. 'I'll risk my hide and sign off if you...' he began, pausing expectantly.

She waited, but he didn't seem to want to continue until she'd said something, so she mock-guessed, 'If I do your laundry for a month? Water your house plants? Rub Harry's glasses with perma-ink? What?'

Draco grinned. 'I like the Potter idea.'

'Already been done. A good face peel took care of it.'

'Ah.'

'Just tell me what you want in exchange for your bloody signature!'

'Easy there, Granger. I just want to know what's with that face you made.'

'Oh.' She shrugged. 'I don't like your new shampoo or whatever, that's all. It has a kind of sickly smell to it. Care to sign now?'

He looked at her in way too deep thought for a couple of moments and then he slowly grinned. 'Yeah, of course,' he said, taking the parchments from her. 'And it's interesting that you don't like my soap. I was led to believe that it's quite popular among females.'

Hermione shrugged again, not caring much for this discussion. 'To each their own,' she airily said, making a dismissive motion. 'Thanks for signing these. I do appreciate it.'

He finished the deed with a flourish and handed it back to her. 'Next time ask me to actually do a thing, not just to claim I did it.'

'Aren't you a stickler,' she muttered, nodding her thanks again, and beginning to walk away.

'I just like to do my job well. Oh, and Granger?'

She stopped to look at him. 'What?'

He held out his hands palms up. 'If you want to know about the soap, just ask.'

She hardly needed the details, so instead she walked away.

* * *

Being called into Potter's office usually meant either something very bad or something very good to Draco--the good always coming in the form of a case that took him away from Potter for a long, long time. They both seemed to benefit from those cases. He still resented being ordered around by The Boy Who'd Never Had To Make A Difficult Choice, but most days he managed to ignore who his boss was, and that was about as good as it got.

Potter dumped a file in his lap before returning to his desk. 'Convince Hermione to go, and this case is yours,' was all he said.

It was a heavy file. Heavy files usually meant interesting cases. 'Right,' Draco said, getting up from the chair.

'Is everything all right between you now?'

Draco stopped to stare at Potter, who was making a great fuss out of signing parchments. 'I don't know,' Draco drawled. 'I mean, I would tell you, but if I had something to say, it would probably just make it back to her before I had a chance to talk to her.'

Potter had the courtesy to get pink cheeks. 'I assumed she already knew there were issues.'

'She didn't. Or, well, she did, but because of that, she doesn't trust me and you might as well keep your stinking case.'

At that, Potter leant back to coolly gaze at him. 'It was your decision to go to me, and I had to act in the best interest of this office.'

The office. Not Draco. Nobody ever cared to act in the best interest of Draco. Why should they? He'd only been working his arse off for the past decade, trying to prove himself to them. 'By ignoring my very simple request and immediately sending me out with her!'

'She's the only one that'll have you, Malfoy!'

'So what? You could have just tied me to my desk for a month or two!'

Potter shook his head and sighed. 'You didn't make it clear that it was temporary. I couldn't have tied you to your desk forever.'

Draco sneered. 'You War Heroes are all the same. It's all great drama and forever or never to you. You have no clue how regular people work!'

He threw the file down and was halfway out the office, before Potter said, 'Just ask her!'

Ok. Fine! He'd ask her. He made a beeline for Hermione's cubicle, thankful that she was in. 'Been to Potter's office. Was asked if you'd go on a case with me or not.' He could hardly have made his enthusiasm more clear.

Hermione looked up. 'Well, good morning to you too. Why are you so cheery?'

He stared at her. 'Been to Potter's office...'

Her lips quirked. 'Right. At some point you need to get over that you work for him, you know.'

He made a dismissive gesture. 'I just need to know if you'll go, don't need a lecture.'

'What's the case about?'

'No clue.'

'That sounds promising.'

'Yes or no, Granger.'

She paused, considering, a thoughtful look in her eyes. 'Do you want to go?'

Draco sighed irritably. 'This isn't about whether I want to go, it's about whether you do!'

'What if my response depends on yours?'

'Yes,' he ground out. 'I haven't been out on a decent case in ages, all right? I'm bored.'

'Hmm...' She pursed her lips. 'Let me read the file and then decide.'

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. 'You already decided.'

'No, Draco,' she said, 'I haven't. If it's a really good one, I'll go. If it's not, then I'd rather stay at home than risk getting stuck in some deserted place with you all through Christmas--again.'

'That was years ago,' he muttered.

'Yes, and you were right charming. Forgive me if I don't want to spend Christmas with the Grinch again.'

'The who?'

'You.'

'Ah.' He shrugged. 'Does it really matter that much?'

'Let me put it this way: I might have to kill myself if it happened again.'

Draco frowned. This was hyperbole at its best. He hadn't known Hermione to be quite that dramatic. 'So you had to exchange gifts with your friends and family on another day--big whoop!'

'It has nothing to do with presents and everything to do with Christmas.'

'I thought Christmas was about giving and receiving gifts.'

'I almost feel sorry for you,' she said, making him glower at her, 'but this exactly is why I want to avoid getting stuck with you for Christmas. I want to be home with my family for warm and cosy fun times, not off with you, cold, hungry, and bickering.'

Like he wouldn't be more comfortable at home as well in that scenario! He just didn't understand the big fuss. Christmas was merely another one of those holidays. Maybe he'd want it more once he had his own family, but he didn't, and she didn't, and there was no reason to be so condescending about it.

'The file is on his desk,' he clipped out. 'Make up your mind and let me know.' Then he turned his back on her and went to his own cubicle to do some more lovely paperwork.

* * *

Going on a case with Draco in December would probably be a really bad idea. They wouldn't be able to take a break for the holidays if it drew out and she really wanted to watch the look on Harry's kids' faces as they unwrapped her presents. Not to mention that she was overdue for a visit home and her mother made the best Christmas pudding in the whole world.

She couldn't go. She really couldn't.

Except a young witch was missing and if they went now, they might find her in time for the holidays.

Damn it.

What would Draco's new girlfriend say to this mission? She probably didn't know that Draco and Hermione had... well. No reason to tell her, either, she supposed. It wasn't like they couldn't be professional. After all, they had been professional for several years now.

'Keep frowning like that and you'll get wrinkles. Well, more of them, anyway.'

'Why are you pestering me while I'm thinking?' she growled. 'I thought I was just going to let you know what I decided.'

'Yes, but it's been two hours since you picked up the file. I got tired of waiting.'

She looked up at him, still undecided. He wasn't the cheating kind. If they went, it would be strictly platonic. Like before. It would be a good chance for her to show that everything was like before. And also, it would be a good chance to try to work on his social skills so he could get another partner. Harry had made it clear to her that if nobody was prepared to partner up at least semi-regularly with Draco by February, then he would start the proceedings to get Draco transferred to another department within Magical Law, and he would probably never see another field case again.

'If we get stuck for Christmas, I'm expecting a very expensive present,' she dully said.

He grinned at her. 'Deal. What made you decide to go?'

She shrugged, carefully closing the file. 'There's a young witch missing. Her family will be devastated if we don't find her.'

Draco's grin faded. 'You know they might be devastated even if we do.'

'I know.'

'Last time we found a body--'

'I know. It happens. It's part of the job. It can't all be fun and games and free holidays in the Lowlands.' She didn't need him to tell her how the family had reacted the last time they'd found a body, let alone how she had reacted. He hadn't dealt that well himself.

There was something about finding a dead child that kind of undid a person. Even more so when it had obviously been a painful death.

'If we're lucky, she merely doesn't want to be found.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'We pack now?'

She nodded. With any luck, it wouldn't even be dark by the time they got there.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

Secrets, Chapter 1/15

2012-08-16T13:17:32Z

Title: Secrets
Series: Silencio
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit derivative work based on the world and characters of J. K. Rowling.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut
Main Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Story Warnings: Dubious Consent, Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Psychological Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nine years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione decides to take a holiday from her life to work out who she is and what she wants to do with herself. She soon gets the feeling that Draco Malfoy might be the key to her salvation, but Draco seems to be consumed by a need to keep secrets that are destroying him and does not want her interfering. Armed with a determination to save someone who doesn't want to be saved, she sets out to see how he might fit into the oddly shaped puzzle that is her life.
Credit: Thank you to dollfaced, namelessamelie and mazvn for the comprehensive beta and filigree1 for the Britpick. Extra thank you to dollfaced for the banner.
Chapter Length: 7,317

* * *

It was eerie. Almost like déjà vu. It had been eleven years since she'd last done this.

It seemed like a lifetime. It had been a lifetime. Everything had changed so much since then. There had been a war. She had grown up.

Well, actually, it had only been nine years since she'd last done this, and the last trip had come after the war, but that time everything had just been so different from how it should have been. The air had been rather subdued, and she had been so alone, so lonely without her friends accompanying her...

On further consideration, this was actually quite a lot like nine years ago. Granted, she was the only one feeling subdued this time, but that didn't change her strong feeling of sadness and hope for a better life to come.

Hermione let out a deep sigh and looked around her at all the children getting on the train. They seemed so young; much younger than when she had been a student herself. The notion was, of course, ridiculous, but it was nevertheless hard to imagine being no older than these children whilst actively risking her life, fighting for a future. A lot of the parents, on the other hand, looked suspiciously close to her own age. If she were to look closer, she might even recognize some of them as having gone to school at the same time as her, albeit a few years above her; or, worse, some of them could have been people she had met more recently through her work at the Ministry. Maybe if she kept her head down, they wouldn't notice her, wouldn't question her presence. This was another ridiculous notion. Her name would've been in their childrens' letters, and the Board of Governors would've had to approve her for her new position, making it no secret at all that the famous Hermione Granger was now on her way to become a Hogwarts Professor.

Fortunately, her own friends and classmates weren't quite here with their own children yet, although young Teddy Lupin would be attending in only a couple of years and then, shortly after that, the Weasleys would begin pouring in.

Oh, God, the Weasleys. In a few years, they'd be swarming the place. Good thing she would be long gone by then. This position would only be hers for a year. She was simply... getting away from her life for a much needed break. It wasn't that she wasn't fond of the younger Weasleys; truly, she was. She'd been part of the celebrations for the birth of Victoire, the first of several grandchildren to Molly and Arthur, and she'd even treated the children as her own nieces and nephews, because... well... that had been how she'd seen them at the time.

But that hadn't been meant to be, and she had to deal with what was now.

What was now, was a train full of children going to Hogwarts.

And she needed to be on it.

* * *

"I trust you had a pleasant journey."

Hermione smiled at the elderly headmistress. She had been whisked straight up to the comfortable, yet very formal-looking, Head's office as soon as she'd stepped inside the castle. "Quite, thank you."

Minerva McGonagall had managed to not age too much in the past decade. The greatest changes to her appearance had occurred around the time of the war. The war had changed everyone, and for Professor McGonagall it had meant extra worry-lines around her eyes, giving her a tired look, as well as a slight slump in her otherwise very straight posture. She simply wasn't as sprightly as she had used to be anymore.

"I trust that you got my missive?"

Hermione's smile faltered a bit. "Yes. I won't be able to teach Muggle Studies."

"Yes, we're terribly sorry for the inconvenience. It seemed like one of our staff was leaving, but then he changed his mind. And he is a very good teacher."

"He couldn't teach something else?" Hermione hopefully asked. She'd really set her sights on Muggle Studies. Being a Muggle-born and all, she knew she could actually teach the children things that some witch or wizard that had never had any connection to any Muggles would certainly have no clue about.

McGonagall made what looked like a small, embarrassed grimace. "I'm afraid not."

Hermione knew better than to push her luck, but she didn't put a lot of effort into hiding her disappointment either. "So, what do you have for me? You did say you still had something?"

"But of course," McGonagall said, reaching for a piece of parchment on her desk. "Our Arithmancy teacher went on maternity leave recently. She should be away for the year. She left her lesson plans behind, though, so I'm assuming that filling in for her shouldn't be too much of a problem?"

"Maternity leave?" Hermione's brain hadn't been able to process much beyond that little piece of information. "How does that work?"

The Headmistress looked a bit exasperated. "You're a clever witch; don't tell me that the concept of maternity leave boggles your mind. You're a little old not to know the inner workings of a woman's body."

Hermione flushed, seeing the rebuff for what it was. "So, not everyone is live-in, then?"

"No." McGonagall indicated the parchment. "We currently have six live-in professors, including you, as well as a teaching ghost and an anti-social centaur. The other six professors floo home from Hogsmeade at the end of their day, unless other arrangements are made in advance."

The fact that some professors might not live at school was something Hermione had never given a second thought whilst attending school herself. "Oh."

"That actually brings me to the next point on the agenda. You're currently the only live-in professor for Gryffindor."

"Oh?" That certainly sounded lonely.

"Yes, Professor Babbling has gone to live with her daughter and son-in-law and will be retiring by the end of the year, and Professor Longbottom goes home to stay with his wife."

Hermione stared for a second and then chastised herself for forgetting that Neville taught here. He'd been an Auror for a while after the war, but his greatest love had always been plants, so when the Herbology position had opened up, he'd taken it without looking back.

More importantly, though: Neville was married. He and Hannah Abbott had married during what Hermione not-so-fondly referred to as the Great Marriage Craze of '04.

No, she was not bitter. Not in the least.

"So, um... what exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"It means we have no functioning Head of House for Gryffindor," McGonagall elaborated. "Would you be interested in filling in on that score as well? It's rather unorthodox to have the Head of House teaching an elective, but I'll just have to see about a more permanent solution later on."

Hermione did a double take. "Me? As Head? I only just got here!"

"I'm aware of that. But I do know enough of your character to know that you'll do fine. It's extra hours and extra responsibility, but also extra pay. I'm assuming you're saving up for something. Young people passing through here always are."

Well, she certainly wasn't going to deny that she could use the money. "You're positive that Neville won't be interested in moving onto the school grounds instead?"

"His wife runs The Leaky Cauldron down in Diagon Alley," said McGonagall, sorting through some more parchment as she spoke. "I'm quite sure it's impossible for them to move here."

"Oh. Well... all right, then."

"Besides," McGonagall continued, "you used to have some ideas for house unity? Breaking down those walls is going to take a lot longer than either you or I have, but we could perhaps make a few chips in them while here."

Hermione nodded. House unity. Freeing the Hogwarts house-elves. It was true that she had spent years at the Ministry fighting for similar causes, but the memory of those times just made this seem all the more insignificant. There were so many things out there that were so much worse. There were people and beings being oppressed, beaten, and discriminated against. Everyone at Hogwarts was safe, clothed, fed and treated well by anyone that mattered. However, she might at least be able to nip certain behaviours in the bud. If the children were taught to connect across Houses and cliques, maybe the world would be just a little bit better off for it.

The Headmistress checked her clock. "Well, the feast is well underway by now. I simply wanted to get all of this sorted out so we could introduce you properly." She handed Hermione the parchments she'd been gathering. "Here's your lesson plans and the roster. It should say how and where you can get in contact with anyone currently filling any position here at Hogwarts. Some will also make use of the staffroom and other facilities. Should all else fail, you can come to me with any concerns you might have." She began to rise.

Hermione accepted the parchments and at first barely glanced at them, but then her eyes fell on a name and refused to budge. "Um... Professor McGonagall?"

"Please, you're not my student anymore. Call me Minerva. Or at least drop the 'Professor'."

Now there was a concept that grated. Hermione was mostly aware that she was no longer a teenager, but calling Minerva McGonagall by her first name somehow seemed wrong. She gave it a go anyway. "Uh, Minerva." No, that definitely felt wrong. "And please do call me Hermione. But... Draco Malfoy teaches here?" She looked up.

"Ah, yes." McGonagall sat back down. "I had momentarily forgotten. Will that be a problem?"

"No, of course not," Hermione rushed to assure her. "It's just... why?"

"He is much changed from the young man you once knew, Hermione."

"Of course..." Hadn't the war changed everyone? "But he's still rich, isn't he? And I doubt it's his heart's desire to teach..." She glanced down to catch his subject. "Defence Against the Dark Arts." She knew it wasn't very nice of her, but she wasn't quite able to suppress her sarcastic tone. This was the boy who had let Death Eaters and a werewolf into Hogwarts to kill innocent children, after all. The boy who had watched her be tortured by his own aunt. The boy who had stood, pale and seemingly tormented yet unapologetic and unwavering, on the other side of the great divide during the war. For years she had seen his eyes in her nightmares before awaking to her own screams. Never Voldemort's eyes or Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes or even Fenrir Greyback's eyes--always Draco Malfoy's pale, sad eyes. The fact that she'd never considered him truly evil and that he hadn't seemed to take joy in any of the real cruelty only made her more wary of him.

Some things were hard to forgive and even harder to forget--even if time would now have turned that boy into a man.

McGonagall's lips actually stretched into a sad sort of smile. "I doubt that as well, but he's more than adequate at what he does, and he's been willing to give up much more than anyone else ever has in the history of Hogwarts, in order to be allowed to work here."

"You say he's a more than adequate teacher. He's been here long?" That seemed strange, considering that Defence Against the Dark Arts had been notorious for being a one-year occupation throughout Hermione's own schooling.

"Two years," McGonagall replied. "This will be his third. The curse on his position seems to have been lifted with Voldemort's demise."

"And, um, what exactly qualifies him for that position?" Hermione asked, trying hard to keep her doubts out of her voice.

The formidable headmistress had obviously still heard, though, because she gave her a stern look just before she answered, "He's alive."

* * *

The feast and the introduction went relatively painlessly. Hermione wasn't exactly the life of the party, but she wasn't shy either, so standing up and having her life and credentials summed up in a few sentences by the Headmistress wasn't the worst thing she'd ever experienced.

Apparently, she was a great war heroine and the most intelligent witch alive. Funny how none of that was reflected in her personal history. Certainly, she had a promising career with the Ministry that she could go back to, should she wish to do so after her leave of absence was over, but there was nothing truly grand about her existence. Nothing... sparkly. If she were really that remarkable, there should be sparkles, shouldn't there? She should have published a book or travelled the world, delivering grand speeches to important people. She should be living in a nice cottage in a rural area and rearing her two children with a gentle but firm hand, whilst still being very much in love with her husband, and expertly managing her career on the side.

Only, she wasn't married, she didn't have any children, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd done something exciting or anything that had challenged her mind. And she lived in a depressing little flat in London. Or she'd used to; her lease would be up in a couple of weeks.

She knew that it was her own fault that she had been withdrawing lately, but somehow her life just seemed wrong. As if her skin didn't fit anymore, and she should have been someone else, doing something else somewhere else.

It made no sense.

Getting away had probably been one of her better ideas. She would use this year for self-reflection and figuring out who she was and who she wanted to be, and hopefully, once she returned, she would be a brand new person.

Or she could move to Timbuktu, never to be seen again.

That was actually a pretty good plan. She had to look into that.

While deeply immersed in her thoughts about the joys of being Hermione Granger, she allowed the Headmistress to escort her to the staffroom. It was late, though, and McGonagall had some business to attend to, so soon enough Hermione was alone again. She was just about to go to her quarters to unpack and go to bed when a man entered the room. He didn't see her at first, but went straight for what seemed to be his personal space. Hermione hesitantly stood, signaling her presence.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "New teacher?" he asked.

"New teacher," she confirmed.

The man was oddly young for a teacher. Or maybe it was simply her advanced age of almost twenty-eight that made her think so. He was probably around her own age, maybe even a little older. His age really shouldn't have surprised her when Neville, Malfoy and she herself were all currently working here. The teachers had just seemed older when she had been a student, that was all. He was actually fairly attractive with dark brown hair, dark eyes and an unusually tan skintone. The only other wizard she'd ever met that didn't act as if sunlight would hurt him was Charlie Weasley and, well, he tamed dragons for a living. Teaching adolescents was a far cry from that.

Or was it?

"Darius Dorcas, Muggle Studies," he said, extending his hand with a rather charming smile. He had nice long fingers. "Just call me Darius."

"Hermione Granger, wanted Muggle Studies," she replied, taking his hand for a short, firm shake. It was warm. Why did that even surprise her? Live humans had a tendency to be warm and he certainly didn't look like another ghost. It really had been too long since she'd had actual human contact.

He grimaced. "Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry."

"Just tell me that you at least know something about your subject," she muttered, fighting off a wince at her memory of her own Muggle Studies lessons. Really, with so many Muggle-born wizards and witches--at least a few entered each year, after all--it should have been possible to get better information.

Darius's face lit up. "Oh, I do! Want to see my latest project?" He motioned towards the area he had been aiming for.

Hermione followed rather cautiously and saw what appeared to be some kind of Muggle stereo. "...Music?"

"Yes!" He was rather animated. "Electronics don't work at Hogwarts, due to the high concentration of magic, but imagine the possibilities if I managed to fuse Muggle technology with magic!"

Hermione stared rather blankly at him for a second. "Uh, interesting?"

"Don't mind him. He went bonkers a long time ago," said a very calm voice behind her. She turned to see the speaker and then froze in an unnatural, unconsciously guarded stance.

Draco Malfoy.

Oh, she hadn't seen him in years and he didn't look like a boy anymore, but there could be no doubt. Somehow, she didn't think that she would ever not recognize him. His hair was longer and a shade or two darker than she remembered, but it was still very distinctive, and his features were too unique to forget. His eyes had hardened, though. He hadn't been a pleasant boy in school, but it had always felt like his behaviours were all a surface. Now, his eyes were as cold and hard as slate, his whole posture was rigid, and his jaw was set in a way that made her feel like he wasn't happy to see her here. That she was intruding and he wanted her gone. That he still hated her.

It confused her. What could she possibly have done to incite such a strong reaction in a man she hadn't seen for so long? Could it be that he still hated those he did not consider pure? Was it possible that McGonagall would still allow him to teach if that were the case? No, that couldn't be it. McGonagall wouldn't express a desire to promote House unity whilst allowing a teacher to be so openly hostile towards Muggle-born witches and wizards at the same time, so whatever dislike was there had to be personal. But why?

"Interesting," Darius said after a few minutes of her trying to suss Malfoy out. "Do you know each other? If you don't, I promise you that he really isn't as interesting as I am."

"Anything is more interesting than your Muggle scrap metal," Malfoy replied, without even glancing at Darius. He simply narrowed his eyes at Hermione, as if trying to decide something. Then all of a sudden, he appeared to dismiss her, picking up a newspaper from the sideboard and taking a seat.

"Oh, I think Hermione could find me interesting..." Darius said, sounding very amused.

Malfoy didn't deign to answer, but just gave a disgusted snort instead. Hermione got the feeling that she wasn't really expected to respond one way or the other. In fact, the remark didn't seem to be about her at all. Maybe Malfoy simply liked to be at odds with people.

"Speaking of witches," Darius continued, "since I bowed out when you showed an interest in Carys, I figure you at least could lend me a wand with this."

"You did not bow out," Malfoy responded, not even looking up. "She was completely uninterested in you. You never had a chance."

Darius had never had a chance with something or someone? Now this might actually prove interesting... Her very first day and already there was petty intrigue!

Darius seemed completely undaunted. "I walked away, because I figured that you wouldn't stand a chance against a man who actually had charm. Besides, I can always use your gratitude. In fact, I'm basking in it right now." He winked at Hermione, whose eyebrows shot up. Oh, no. He wasn't including her in this in any way! She quickly averted her eyes and tried to look like she wasn't listening.

Another sigh. "If you're getting on so famously with Granger, why don't you ask for her wand-hand instead?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to follow the last bit of the exchange. "You need to borrow a wand?" she asked. "What's wrong with yours?"

Malfoy cracked his first smile and it wasn't exactly a pleasant one. In fact, it was rather maliciously gleeful. Apparently some things never changed. "You didn't tell her yet?" He put aside his reading material and looked expectantly at them. "This should prove at least vaguely interesting. Oh, go on, Dorky. The worst she's going to do is knit you something."

Hermione blinked. He remembered her knitting things? She'd all but forgotten herself. And... Dorky?

Darius let out a resigned breath of air, his good humour disappearing. "The reason why I'm fairly adept at Muggle Studies... is that I lived among them for almost two decades until fairly recently."

"Too convoluted," was Malfoy's verdict.

"You're a squib?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Except apparently it wasn't," Malfoy murmured, sounding a little bit surprised, but then he seemed to shrug it off as he reopened his newspaper and tried to ignore them again.

Oh, please, what did he take her for? Why else would a wizard be unable to perform magic? He obviously wasn't a Muggle, since Hermione doubted that McGonagall was that open-minded about her school, and he most definitely wasn't an adolescent Muggle-born who'd only just been called to school.

"Yeah." Darius shoved his hands in his pockets. "I understand if that makes you uncomfortable."

"Not at all!" Although it was rather unorthodox for a squib to work on equal footing with wizards and witches. Especially on equal footing with pureblood snobs like Malfoy. The aforementioned snob was snorting again, and she couldn't help but ask Darius, "Is he always this delightful?"

"Oh, no," Darius drily responded. "Sometimes he's grumpy."

"No, really?" Hermione asked in mock surprise.

"All right, then!" Malfoy abruptly closed his newspaper and stood. "Apparently there's no peace to be had around here, so I'll just leave you two to talk about me in private." He began walking towards the door.

"So what prompted you to come all the way up here to teach?" Darius asked Hermione.

"People don't simply decide to take up teaching?" she asked, uncomfortably trying to dodge the question. Some things just seemed a little personal to share with almost complete strangers.

"We all have a story," he replied. "Even Malfoy. Or maybe especially Malfoy. He's not that keen on sharing."

Malfoy stopped just as he had reached the door and put his hand on the doorknob to open it. Then his lip twisted in a disconcerting sort of way. "Want me to share things?" he silkily asked, turning back. "Fine." He took the few steps back to Darius and handed him the Daily Prophet. "Page six. Did you know that Granger's ex-fiancé is called Ronald Weasley?" Then without waiting for their reactions and sporting just a hint of a sneer, he left.

Looking rather puzzled, Darius opened the newspaper to page six and then glanced uncomfortably at Hermione. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... didn't know."

Hermione already knew what was in the paper. There was a whole page on Ron's new engagement. When she had become engaged to him, they had only got a column. Of course, they hadn't been secretly engaged for a while before announcing it, which this journalist thought was an awfully romantic thing to do. Right. It wasn't as if Ron had hidden the engagement for even longer than anyone else knew simply to avoid gossip about his new fiancée being 'the other woman' that had stolen him away from Hermione. It didn't matter that that hadn't been what had happened at all; as late as a year ago, some people would still have interpreted it like that, and his new fiancée would have suffered the censure.

"We split up a while ago," she said with a nonchalant shrug and a small smile. Her whole demeanour was a lie, but Darius wouldn't know. People much closer to her didn't know. It was simply fortunate that she'd had time to get used to the news and that she'd found a way to escape most pitying looks. "I'm simply glad he's happy."

That wasn't a lie. She was glad he was happy.

She only wished she'd been happy first.

* * *

If Hermione had ever thought teaching would be easy or simple, she was soon disabused of that notion. In fact, for her very first class on her very first day, she was treated to some rather disruptive sixth years. At first, she took it all in her stride, responding to their questions about her personal life, figuring that they were simply curious about their new teacher.

Then she realised.

They were stalling, hoping that she wouldn't actually get around to making them do any schoolwork that day. And no matter what she did, there seemed to be children fidgeting as well as a constant buzz, and she wasn't completely certain exactly where it came from. Pin-pointing it was difficult, and the class was beginning to confuse and frustrate her. This was not how she remembered herself or anyone else in her year--save perhaps Malfoy and his gang--acting during class.

She was rapidly approaching her wits' end when there was a knock on the door. Certain that she was already looking frazzled, she called out, "Enter!" and then watched with astonishment and an overwhelming sense of annoyance as her class immediately grew so still that you could have heard a pin drop.

How dare they look all angelic and attentive, more than likely making her seem unreasonably irate? She frowned at the class at large and then turned to the person at the door. It was Malfoy, looking every bit as distant as he had the day before. But as he entered, he didn't even look at her, at least not at first. Rather, he was looking at the students, three different individuals in particular, focusing so hard on them that he made one of them--a dark-haired girl from Ravenclaw--blush with embarrassment and sink into her chair as if to hide.

Come to think of it, most of the unruliness did seem to originate around those students.

Huh.

"The Headmistress wants you to sign this and return it to her as soon as possible," he said, handing a piece of parchment over to her and looking bored, as if he hadn't just apparently intimidated a whole classroom with a mere look. "She was supposed to have given it to you yesterday, but it would seem she forgot." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. That was interesting. But he was probably right; McGonagall had more than likely wanted someone to check in on her and had used this as a pretext.

"No problem," she muttered.

"I will see some of you in my class after this," he said to the room at large before he left, making it sound like a threat in spite of his subtle intonation.

There were no more problems with disturbances after that.

After the class finally finished, Hermione felt drained. Good thing she was teaching an elective and only had about half as many classes as someone teaching a mandatory class. Whilst teaching something mandatory would certainly pay better, she very much appreciated keeping her sanity. That was, if that were even possible.

Wearily, she got up from her seat and went down to the staffroom where she proceeded to sit down on a sofa and lean back to stare at the ceiling. She had developed a pretty good idea of how the rafters were positioned and had even thought of a few theories about the process of making them by the time someone else finally entered. She slowly lifted her head. Oh, great, Malfoy again. She had hoped for a more pronounced change of scenery.

Malfoy stopped short when he saw her, but then simply frowned and went to his own chair, again picking up a newspaper. "You're going to miss lunch," he informed her, no doubt looking to get rid of her. He was such a social being, wasn't he? But then again, if he didn't want to be around people, he could stay in his own office, so maybe he simply liked being grumpy all the time.

"Thanks," she merely said. "For helping with the little tyrants, I mean."

He frowned again, even deeper this time. "I didn't help you."

"Yeah, you did." She yawned. This had already been a long day, but she wasn't going to let Malfoy get away with denying what he'd done. "They felt threatened by you."

"They always feel threatened by me," he muttered. "Nothing to do with you."

"So, you're like Snape the Second?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a rather disturbing thought. Although it didn't seem like Malfoy had given up on the habit of washing his hair yet and, well, his pouting wasn't really all that intimidating.

"No. I have nothing in common with Severus Snape," he said, looking rather annoyed with her.

"You both loathe teaching." Or so one could only assume. But this was Malfoy. There was no way he was actually doing this out of want, so what was his real motivation?

"I do not loathe teaching!" he surprisingly growled. "Who told you these lies?"

She snorted. "Oh, come on. You're saying that you're doing it because you love children and want to expand their minds?"

"I could live quite comfortably without doing anything at all, you know," he replied. "In a nice villa on the continent with enough house-elves and scantily clad witches to see to my every need. I don't need to be here."

"Then why are you?" she pressed, ignoring the rhetoric that was obviously designed to put her off. Honestly, he had to learn to do better than that.

"Because I want to be, and sadly for you, I mean to stay here. I don't want anything else."

He attempted to dismiss her by opening the newspaper he'd picked up, but he really should've known better than to think she could be that easily dissuaded once she had her heart set on something.

"I refuse to believe you don't want the scantily clad witches," she insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

What did make her say that? She frowned, trying to work it out. It was mostly just an... impression. Also, he was male. "Something about that conversation you had with Dorcas yesterday," she said.

He seemed to buy it. "After you've seen a few scantily clad witches, they tend to blur together a bit."

She snorted. "Now you're just showing off." She should've seen that one coming. This was Malfoy, after all. If he was still anything like his younger self, then showing off and whinging was what he did best.

Something seemed off with that assessment, and she frowned, trying to work out what that was. Then she shook it off. Obviously he'd acquired a new skill: grumping.

He shrugged. "Merely saying that they're only fun to keep around when needed. I'm quite happy to live witch-free the rest of the time."

"Right." Hermione indulged in a bit of sarcasm. "But you have manly needs."

He shot her the most peculiar glance. "I never said there was no such thing as womanly needs and why are we having this conversation?"

Oh, so she was making him uncomfortable, was she? Well, good. Only using witches for his personal Happy Fun Times, indeed. That was annoying. She was definitely feeling annoyed. She tried to rein it in. Lecturing clueless men on their sexism never led to anything good. Pureblood wizards tended to be the worst of the lot; even Ron was rather bad on that score. Instead she forced herself to smile and say, "Because you refused to admit that you were helping me out in the classroom."

"Right." He nodded. "I wasn't."

"So, when you're talking about womanly needs--"

He abruptly stood. "The Headmistress ordered it, so stop it!"

Hermione was still laughing long after he'd gone.

* * *

The first few weeks of the school year went by relatively fast. Hermione soon learned that democracy in class did not work, and that she needed to assert herself. That really wasn't much of a problem once she got over not wanting the students to perceive her as a mean old hag. Really, being a mean old hag was so much easier. Besides, it seemed like they actually liked her better once she stopped worrying about being liked. Odd.

The staffroom was generally a bit of a disappointment. Darius explained that the professors who didn't live at the castle usually only showed up at the Great Hall for the meals convenient to them, obligatory feasts, and at the staffroom for planned staff meetings, so she shouldn't be surprised if she for instance didn't really see Neville Longbottom much at all, unless she deliberately sought him out. He was, however, vague about why nobody else seemed to use the staffroom in the afternoons. All she gathered was that it somehow had to do with Malfoy. She didn't quite understand that. He was grumpy, certainly, but he wasn't that bad. He generally kept to himself, even when in the middle of a group of people. He was, however, as she'd found out quite by herself, occasionally fun to bait.

"You should go to Hogsmeade if you're bored one night," Darius said one Friday afternoon, as she was reading a book in the staffroom. He was tinkering with his stereo again. Really, he just seemed to be pulling it apart. "It doesn't have very many places to go at night, so people will still know where to find you, and it's close enough that you could easily be called back for an emergency. Just don't get pissed. Minerva doesn't really like it when her staff overindulges, especially if there's no real occasion."

Go to Hogsmeade? Alone? "I don't know... " she muttered. "I'm really quite fine here."

"Then we could go together."

Hermione glanced at him, feeling a bit wary. All signs pointed towards Darius wanting to become a bit friendlier than she was ready for. Especially with someone she had to work with. Relationships didn't tend to end so well for her. Imagine if he then ran off with Madam Vera, the young matron that had taken Madam Pomfrey's place at some point in the last few years, or imagine if her own shortcomings would eventually push him away. She definitely wasn't prepared to face that. She'd come here, hoping to have a whole year where she wouldn't even have to consider going out with someone, so his attention made her feel a little bit awkward.

She was overthinking the matter. Best to simply reply. He might not even mean anything by it. "Er... " she said.

There was a brief look of disappointment on his face, but it was gone so quickly that Hermione wasn't certain it had ever really been there. Then he shot her a bright smile. "Nah, maybe not such a great idea. They don't take too kindly to squibs down at the Three Broomsticks, and the Hog's Head is nowhere to take a decent witch. Maybe some other time, some other place, yeah?"

She felt bad for rejecting him like that. He'd actually been very nice to her ever since she started, and it wasn't even because she was completely uninterested. She liked him very much and maybe once they didn't have to work so closely together, she could encourage him to owl her. Just not quite yet. Things needed to fall into place, and she needed her safe space.

"That's just wrong," she heard herself say. "You should be able to go wherever you please." As soon as she realised what she'd said, she felt a little stupid. Of course he should be able to go wherever he pleased. She wouldn't be getting arguments from him there. It hadn't been his idea to make wizarding society so inherently bigoted against anyone and anything that wasn't exactly as they'd prescribed. She simply didn't know what else to say.

"I didn't say I wasn't able to go," he clarified, his smile beginning to look a little strained. "I said I wasn't particularly welcome. I did go for a while, but... " He shrugged again. "I don't really have a reason to anymore."

"What was your reason before?"

He hesitated a bit. "A pretty young witch."

"What happened?" Hermione had always been too curious for her own good. If she had to guess without knowing the story, she'd bet this was the same witch Darius had mentioned to Malfoy on the first day.

Darius's hands stopped fiddling with his Muggle electronics and he stared at them for a second. "She wasn't interested in seeing a squib," he finally said. "Nobody really is, you see. They'll be all smiles and flirting until they realise, and then they'll be awkward and can't seem to get away fast enough. We're the ones that don't belong, the ones that don't qualify for anything. They think we should either go and live with Muggles or hide away working miserable jobs, like old Filch is doing. We shouldn't presume." He began tinkering again. "We shouldn't want."

Hermione was quite speechless. "You know that's not why--"

"I know." He didn't look up at her. "You're a very decent sort. But it still plays a small part, doesn't it? Even if you're Muggle-born. Even if you believe in equality."

"Certainly not!"

"You're completely sure about that?"

She blushed with embarrassment and anger. It seemed too much like he was calling her a bigot. Her, of all people! "What are you trying to say?"

He opened his mouth, but then sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Have I somehow offended you?"

He looked startled. "Of course not."

"Then why are you saying I'd discriminate against you?"

"Maybe because I want you to prove me wrong."

He looked her straight in the eyes for the longest time, but finally Hermione had to look away. She couldn't deal with this kind of thing just now. "I think I might go down to Hogsmeade after all," she said, getting up.

Perhaps walking off without inviting Darius along wasn't the nicest thing Hermione had ever done, but he'd hit a sore spot with her. She was Muggle-born, yet at this point in her life she didn't really have anything to do with anyone not magical. She had wanted to make her parents proud, and she supposed she had, but she had lost any deeper connection with them before she was even a teen. Today, they were little more than polite strangers. Certainly, there was still love and pride, but they simply had nothing to talk about.

This seemed to be the story of all of her old relationships lately.

* * *

Hermione stood in the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, clutching her book to her chest. Why she'd even brought a book to the pub, she wasn't sure, but right now it was good for holding onto.

There were so many people. And they were all laughing and talking quite loudly. Many of them had definitely had their fair share of drink.

She quickly stepped aside as someone stumbled to get past her, but he still managed to bump into her.

She shrunk into herself.

Hermione was not a shy person, and she had certainly not been a wallflower at any time in her life. It was just... she'd had a distaste for going out ever since her world had crumbled. She'd had a distaste for meeting new people.

She'd had a distaste for opening up to new people.

Oh, she knew that Ron had never meant to hurt her. He hadn't even been the one to do the leaving, and she knew for a fact that he too had been broken for a long time.

Knowing that simply didn't make it any less lonely and intimidating to be her, trying to fight her way past a natural inclination to shut off and shut down.

However, Ron had moved on and so would she. Just as soon as she was finished hiding in the Scottish Highlands.

Pathetic.

Well, whilst she was hiding up here, she might as well socialise with the locals. She took a deep breath and entered the room, making her way around the edges until she found a small table in the corner where she could sit down. So far, so good.

She opened her book to claim her spot, but before she could get back up to order, a young blonde witch who obviously worked there had approached her table. "Can I get you anything, love?"

"Um... Butterbeer, please," Hermione muttered, a bit flustered at being approached. She hadn't thought there'd be table service and had simply ordered the first thing that had come to mind. Regardless, one butterbeer wasn't likely to get her smashed, even if she did have the constitution of a house-elf. The witch nodded, went away, came back with the drink, and then left her alone after accepting payment. Hermione liked that service; she would have to tip the barmaid before she went back.

Although she did suspect that the majority of the witch's tips didn't come from her no-nonsense service, but rather from her low-cut robes. Not that Hermione was a prude that minded low-cut robes. In fact, she felt that wearing them was probably a very good marketing strategy for the witch, and she applauded that.

She wondered if this was the pretty witch Darius had been talking about. She was pretty, that much was for certain. And she was working at the Three Broomsticks. It was none of her business, though. Hermione returned to her book, to her surprise actually liking the activity and noise around her. It reminded her a little of so many visits to the Burrow, where during the holidays she'd sat in a corner of the living room whilst all the countless children and grandchildren--well, they had seemed countless at the time--had been making merry around her.

She hadn't been to the Burrow since the end of her relationship. Molly had actually invited her for Christmas last year, before she had known that Ron had become re-engaged, obviously, but Hermione had declined. It would have been too awkward, even if Molly had assured her that she was still a part of the family. Because the fact of the matter was that she wasn't. Harry was a part of the family; Hermione was not.

This was becoming depressing fast. All of these people made Hermione realise exactly how alone she'd become. Maybe she should simply go.

As she got up, she saw that Malfoy had arrived as well, and he was talking to the blonde barmaid, who now had her back turned to Hermione.

Something seemed to shift. Hermione blinked and frowned. It was an odd feeling, almost like déjà vu, but not quite. It was like... she was struggling to remember something. She spent a few seconds trying to work it out, but nothing came to her and eventually she gave up. It was probably nothing important anyway.

Still, when she looked at the couple again, her world seemed to shift once more.

What's going on?

She frowned. This was not good. Had the butterbeer been off or something?

When she looked a third time, Malfoy looked up to meet her eyes and something just snapped inside her head. Her body went completely limp as if the threads holding her up had been severed.

As she fell, she saw it. There it was. Almost within her grasp. She blindly reached for it and caught something vague, something intangible. Draco Malfoy. A blonde witch. A name. "Marilyn," she breathed the second before everything went black.

Next Chapter

Master List

The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge, Chapter 9

2012-06-22T22:24:06Z

Title: The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Mild Kink, Mild Violence, Polyjuice (Body Switch), Profanity, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Threesome
Warning Note: I do not warn per chapter. What I warn for may be in chapter 1 or chapter 39 and they may or may not be what you expect them to be. If you have a very specific trigger, you can PM me for details pertaining to that specific thing, otherwise tough luck, cookie.
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Through a series of uncontrollable events and deliberate decisions, Draco and Hermione are now, a little more than a decade after the war, both working as Aurors. Draco is a complete git and the only one who'll pair up with him for anything is Hermione. This is suiting her less and less, though, so she tries to open his eyes to all the things that have changed. An open-eyed Draco, however, is a force to be reckoned with.
Extra Note: Thank you to margotlefaye (chapter 1-5), dollfaced and mazvn for the beta and robs55 (chapter 1-7) and filigree (chapter 8+) for the Britpick. You guys rock! You saved this story. :D
Chapter Length: 4,962

* * *

Draco's request to not be assigned cases with Hermione had been ignored.

He wasn't terribly surprised since he was aware of his low popularity among the other Aurors, but he simply wished that Potter had taken the hint and not sent him out with Hermione the same week. He needed time to forget what had happened. Or he at the very least needed time to process it. Chasing escapees from Azkaban, whilst he was constantly thinking about the taste of her skin, was hardly ideal.

'You know, when they employed Dementors, nobody ever got away,' he absent-mindedly commented, as they were making their way down the deserted road of some tiny wizarding village on the Welsh border.

'Except Sirius Black.'

'Oh. Right. Forgot about him. But this is the third case I can remember personally having since they got rid of them.'

She shrugged and looked away. She'd been uncommonly cold and distant ever since they'd been teamed up again. Maybe the whole situation was getting to her too?

'I think this is it,' he said, stopping in front of the crooked building that was the town pub. Whilst most of the crooked old houses in this village managed to look charming, this one managed to look not only seedy, but downright offensive.

'Right,' Hermione said, smoothing down her casual going-out costume. 'I'm ready.'

Draco eyed her cleavage and frowned. 'You positive this is the best plan?'

'We've already had this discussion! We need to get him alone or risk his accomplices taking us down. We don't know what kind of clientele this place has.'

'Yeah, but--' Draco's gaze flickered as he tried to gather his objections '--what if something happens?'

'Nothing will happen, will it?' she asked, her voice so cold that Draco felt compelled to check for frostbite. 'You have my back, haven't you?' She sounded so completely unconvinced that he couldn't help but stare at her.

'Hermione...'

'Let's just get this over with!'

He hesitated, but then pushed the door open. He did have her back. Nothing would happen. If she didn't mind having the hands of a murderer on her, then so be it.

The room went quiet as they entered. Ah, one of those places. It didn't take long for the people there to dismiss the newcomers with little more than a few wary glances, though.

They went over to a table and sat down. Neither of them had really bothered with disguises, because the fact was that hardly anyone knew what either of them looked like any longer. Even War Heroes were forgotten if they didn't do anything to keep up their fame, and Hermione had been content working behind the scenes and letting Potter dominate the newspapers. Draco himself hadn't simply been content to do so, he'd been happy with the arrangement. The sooner everyone forgot who he was, the better.

Draco ordered something to drink, and Hermione leant forwards, smiling at some bloke who was egg-shaped in the largest sense of the word. From his almost completely bald--apart from a few greasy strands--head down to his big, ugly arse, you could draw the most interesting asymmetrical oval. What ruined the egg image was for the most part his thin-as-sticks arms and legs. Gross. Draco supposed that if Hermione would flirt with that, it wouldn't matter much to her that he was also missing quite a few teeth and what little was left were dirty little stumps.

Having a hard time suppressing his disgust, Draco muttered, 'I don't see him,' only loud enough for her to hear.

'Give it time,' she replied, scanning the room and playing with a lock of her hair as if she were on the prowl.

Flirting was strategically useful in order to signal that they weren't together, but Draco would be damned if he'd make eyes at the dirty old hags in the room. The very thought made him shudder. He did manage to smile at the barmaid, though. She was a bit on the heavy side for his tastes but had pretty enough facial features.

Hermione sniggered. 'I think that bloke over there is eyeing you up.'

Draco followed her nod, anticipating a hostile glare, not at all expecting to see what could only be described as carnal interest. Oh, crap. He even thought he might've seen that wizard before. Draco quickly looked away, his embarrassment colouring his cheeks. 'Mean, Granger.'

'Don't use my name,' she hissed.

His blush deepened. Caught making a rookie mistake. Not every case required cover names, but they'd decided to be anonymous tonight. Even if their faces had been largely forgotten, their names might still cause unwanted attention in any magical setting. 'Sorry.'

She didn't reply but simply sat scanning the same dozen people present over and over again.

After a few minutes, it occurred to him that she seemed to be ignoring him. 'I thought you said you wouldn't feel awkward,' he said.

She didn't pretend she didn't understand what he was talking about. 'I don't.'

'Yes, because this is not awkward.'

She turned to look at him for the first time all night, murder in her eyes. 'No, what's awkward is my boss telling me that my partner has gone behind my back to get rid of me.'

Suddenly everything clicked. 'Oh.' Damn that Potter for telling her! This wasn't supposed to happen. He swallowed. 'I didn't mean--'

'You know what?' she cut him off. 'Don't bother with your excuses. I get the message. But you can like it or lump it, team up with me when the job requires--and I promise you that I won't molest you--or try to get along everyone else. If you don't feel comfortable with either of those options, you can resign. Those are currently your only choices. Tough to be you.'

Molest him? What? He frowned, trying to work it out. 'I didn't do it to hurt you.'

'I'm not hurt.' She took a long drink from her glass, a sure sign that she was out of it. When actively looking out for a dangerous convict, she usually never touched alcohol and neither did he. They'd order but they wouldn't drink it. They couldn't afford the slower senses.

'I only needed--' he tried.

'I don't care what you needed,' she interrupted him again. 'I needed to trust you. Congratulations, now I don't. Stabbing someone in the back usually has that effect.'

'Then why are you here?' he very quietly asked.

'I'm doing my job whilst keeping your miserable self in business,' she replied, her voice bitter and jaded. 'Isn't that what I've always done? But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Harry.'

Draco sighed and leant back in his chair. This was all going to hell and fast.

He knew he never should have let anything happen.

* * *

The gall of the prat to think he had the power to hurt her! Hermione refused to consider the fact that he actually had. It didn't matter. The point was that now she was only angry. Livid, even. But unlike him, she wasn't a rubbish partner, and she'd see this through and save his pathetic up-tight arse for the rest of her career as an Auror if that was what it took to prove that she was better than him.

She'd never have gone to Harry to get rid of him without telling him. Ever. She would have talked to him. Like an adult. Like a human being.

'It's not even about you,' he muttered. 'I just need to figure out how to--'

'Shh, he's coming.' Hermione kept an eye on the newcomer. He was their target. Not bad-looking at all, but the fact that he was a cold-blooded killer kind of detracted from his charms.

Draco snapped his jaw shut, but she could feel the tension in him. He was annoyed that she wouldn't let him make excuses. The problem was that certain things were inexcusable. Regretting sleeping with her was fine, but ruining their working relationship over it was not. She should really have refused to work with him again, but if she'd done that, Harry would have been the one losing sleep over it, not Malfoy. She really wanted to punch Malfoy for being such an entitled, clueless git who couldn't care less about being a problem to others. Didn't he realise that Harry cared about all of his Aurors and would find it very upsetting to have to sack even him?

She missed going on cases with Ron. She'd have to see if that couldn't be arranged soon. She missed being with someone who wouldn't fight her, hurt her and betray her. Ok, maybe Ron had done all those things at some point, but not for a long, long time. After they'd patched things up a bit, they'd had the most wonderfully tranquil friendship where they could each just be themselves. She missed letting down her guards, confident that her partner wouldn't hurt her on a whim.

'Snap out of it, Gr--' Draco coughed to cover up that he'd almost used her name again. 'He seems to be going for the barmaid.'

Hermione pouted in the general direction of their mark. 'I think I'm prettier than her. Wait, don't comment on that--I know what you're going to say, and I completely disagree. I am much prettier.'

Draco closed his mouth without saying whatever he'd meant to. 'Soon I'm going to get very tired of being cut off,' he said instead.

'Tough,' she snapped. 'Backstabbers get what's coming to them.'

'I didn't--'

She got to her feet, adjusting her assets without allowing him a chance to explain. 'I'll try to get him outside. Give us a few minutes, but don't get distracted by your stud over there and take too long.'

'Sure you need me at all?' he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

'No,' she replied. 'But you'd better be there if I do.' Then she sauntered up to their convict with an inviting smile.

It didn't take her many minutes to convince him to follow her out the back for some "fun times". At the eager look on his face, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Outside, she had to endure some slobbering and pawing whilst she tried to make it natural to go for her wand under the guise of needing a protection spell. She shouldn't actually have to attempt a spell, but wouldn't it be nice if Draco came outside only to realise she really hadn't needed him?

She was quickly thwarted, however. 'No,' the wizard growled in what appeared to be his usual tone of voice. Creepy. 'I don't like others casting spells on me. Self-preservation, see? Some bird like you could be out for more than a bloke's knob and that's trouble I don't need.'

Then he plucked the wand right out of her hand before she could think of anything in-character to prevent it. Damn it! Draco would have a field day with this, even though she would never have let the bugger get it if she hadn't known she was backed up. She was personally more concerned with keeping her cover than attempting to throw a hex before she got tackled or the convict Disapparated, but Malfoy simply loved to use these kinds of things against her. As if her main role wasn't to keep the convict's eyes on her whilst Draco cast the damn spell.

When she caught movement at the corner of her eye, she was more relieved than she wished she would have been. Malfoy hadn't dawdled. Under the pretense of wanting to do a bit of a tease, she danced backwards to come out of the spell's path, but she was barely clear before Malfoy cast Stupefy, narrowly missing her as it hit its mark.

Merlin, couldn't he have given it another two seconds?

She reclaimed the pocketed wand from the Stupefied wizard and mentally dared Draco to comment on the fact that she'd been de-wanded in the first place.

* * *

'I still think it was a stupid plan,' Draco couldn't help but say as he looked down on the frozen surprise on the wizard he'd just felled.

Damn, but Granger had given that evil git a snog for his money. Draco couldn't fathom how she could do that so easily. Did she really not at all mind whoever's hands were on her? That was... No, he couldn't understand it at all.

'Well, it worked, didn't it?' she shot back.

'We could have lured him outside without you having to do that.' Draco's idea had been to start a fight with their target and make him come outside, but Hermione had claimed that the risk of people following to watch was too great. Also, she'd said, she wasn't completely sure she could find it in herself to stop anyone from trouncing Draco. Ha-bloody-ha.

'It was easier,' she merely said.

'And you like easy.' He poked the wizard with a foot.

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!' Her angry voice prompted him to look up at her in surprise. What had he done now? 'I'll see you later,' she added, and turned around with a flounce.

'Wait, what?' He was very confused by her dismissal. Weren't they out on a job? 'We need to deliver him to Azkaban tonight!'

'He's Stupefied, and you know the way to Azkaban by yourself. Only one of us needs to sign off on him. Give them my regards.' Then she sauntered inside without as much as another glance back at him.

With a sigh, he bent down to haul the worthless sod to his feet and then clumsily Apparated them both to the drop-off point near Azkaban.

Once the formalities were seen to, Draco was a bit unsure of what to do. He should go home, really, but cases like these always left him with adrenaline pumping, unwilling to go home to his empty house. After considering for a bit whether it would be considered stalking to do so, he went back to check on Hermione. After all, if she was doing something with the egg-man, she'd thank him later if he got her out of there in time.

As it turned out, she wasn't doing anything with the egg-man. In fact, the egg-man was nowhere to be seen. She was, however, flirting rather heavily with a newcomer, a young wizard who looked rather bland in Draco's eyes. The wizard was hanging onto every word Hermione said in a manner that was thoroughly disgusting, and Draco felt an urge to tell them to get a room.

Except, then they most likely would.

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, again unsure what to do. He should probably simply leave her to it. This was what she wanted, after all. Who was he to interfere?

She looked up and spotted him, looking surprised to see him, but then she very pointedly turned her back on him and continued to talk to her wizard.

Something about the way she did this really pissed Draco off. He'd come here to see if she was all right! He took two steps towards her, but then changed his mind and went over to the barmaid. 'Excuse me, do you have anywhere where one can have a private conversation?'

He would get this cleared up once and for all, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming to some back office. Of course, he could always drag her outside, but somehow he got the feeling that some place with a lock on the door would be best for making her listen to him.

The barmaid shrugged. 'You can rent a room. We have two of them, both free tonight.' She cast a glance at Hermione's table. 'Well, for now.'

Draco bit back a comment and shook his head. 'I don't need a room, just somewhere to talk.'

She shot him an annoyed look. 'And I'm telling you that if you want to have it out with your lady friend, it'll be either in front of her new bloke or in one of my rooms!'

Draco scowled and began fishing for his wallet. 'You, Madam, are a leech,' he said, fishing out the specified ludicrous amount of money.

'Nah,' she replied, looking very pleased with herself. 'I'm a businesswoman.'

Draco shook his head. A businesswoman, indeed. He got the key and then went over to Hermione's table.

* * *

Someone was in Hermione's light. She looked up, not terribly surprised to see that it was Draco. 'Shove off,' she rudely said. Couldn't he see she was busy?

Apparently not, because he chose to make a scene by hauling her to her feet by her elbow. Grand. The wizard she was talking to looked unsure what to do, so she doubted she could count on him to be her white knight. That was all right, though; she didn't particularly care for white knights. She could handle her own affairs. Her biggest problem just now was to figure out whether she would first scratch out Draco's eyes or hex off his nuts.

'Can we talk?' Draco asked, his voice smooth as silk.

'Are we physically capable? Yes. Are we going to? No.'

'Wrong again,' he replied, dragging her with him.

Definitely the nuts first. And it would have to be a particularly painful spell. She didn't bother to fight him overly much right now, though. He had the physical advantage and she didn't care to be more entertaining than she already was to the riff-raff in this pub. He took her upstairs to a tiny room and then slammed the door behind them.

She glanced at the bed and then snorted. 'In your dreams, Malfoy.'

'Not here for that,' he merely replied. 'This was somewhere private to talk.'

'I'll be at work on Monday, and you'll have plenty of opportunity to talk to me!'

'I want to talk now,' he gritted out through clenched teeth.

'Fine. Then talk.' She crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly.

He hesitated, but then said, 'I'm not like you, Granger. I only went to Potter because I needed time to adjust. Obviously, I didn't even get that.'

'Why not come to me?'

'You wouldn't have understood!'

'I think I understand enough.' She tried to walk around him, but he didn't budge, and he was in the way of the door. She glared at him.

'I, too, understand enough,' he said. 'You have all this righteous indignation, because I tossed you aside as a partner, acting as if I should have known you'd have cared that I needed to process what happened. Yet you do nothing but show that you don't care at all. I did the only thing I could have done after that whole disaster took place, but you refuse to see it.'

Great. So now sex with her was a disaster, even. 'Short of resigning, of course,' she said, not minding at all if he got the heavy hint. It really would make it easier on everyone if he'd simply cut his losses. She'd be able to switch jobs without leaving Harry hanging, and Harry would simply need to fill another position.

'I don't want to resign,' he said. 'I want to keep my job, and I want things to be as they were between us.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Hateful and full of spite? They are.'

'We trusted each other before!'

He simply kept missing the point, didn't he? 'Yeah, but then I raped you, remember?' she sneered.

'Why do you keep saying that?'

'Because you're acting as if it's all my fault, as if I forced you!'

He shook his head, looking honestly confused. 'That's not... I simply made a really, really big mistake that night.'

Why would he not stop saying that? 'You're not alone in that; so did I.'

'But couldn't you at least respect the fact that it's difficult for me to deal with? That I'm not used to casual sex with someone I see every day?'

She hated the way he always coated his hurtful behaviour with polite discourse, making it seem to the uninitiated that he was the reasonable one. It made her feel even more aggressive. 'Why should I? You don't seem to respect me!' And therein was the rub. She could hardly tell him the truth--exactly how much his behaviour had cut her. He didn't understand the nature of these things. He wouldn't understand that just because things hadn't really changed, it didn't mean he could say anything he wanted about being intimate with her and not hurt her. She was still a person. Maybe she should have been able to say this to him, but she still had her pride. Besides, she didn't want to risk making him think that it meant more than it did. He was so desperate for a relationship that he would probably completely misinterpret it and try to complicate matters, and much as she had enjoyed the sex, that really wasn't something she wanted to deal with at this point in her life.

'It's bloody hard to respect you when you sleep with me only to join me on a case less than two weeks later and try to pick up another wizard in front of me! Really, Granger? You couldn't have waited a little longer?'

Hermione fought not to look away. Actually, she could easily have waited a lot longer under normal circumstances, but tonight hadn't been about sex. It had been about facing a lot of rejection and insults from someone she'd trusted more than she'd thought, and needing to feel better about herself. She'd simply wanted someone to think she was pretty and nice. No morning after insults, no complications. Only an ego boost. Besides, she'd thought he'd been gone before she'd started anything.

'Maybe you didn't quite do it for me,' she said. She could go after his ego too if he really wanted her to.

'That's ridiculous,' he sneered, his vanity clearly wounded, as intended. 'I was there, remember? If I'd done it for you any better, you'd have spontaneously combusted.'

She shrugged. 'It had been a while. And I'd been thwarted a few times. I suppose you were an adequate appendage.'

'"Adequate appendage"?'

'Yes, I needed a cock,' she said without shame. 'You had one; you provided it; the edge was taken off.'

'The edge?' His teeth were gritted.

'Well, yes. It was only one time, after all. It's ok. It was... everything I expected.'

His eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled insult. 'Next you're going to tell me that you were faking it.'

She shook her head. 'I didn't, but why do men always assume that as long as the woman has an orgasm, they are sex gods? Even a blind pig finds an acorn every now and then.'

He crossed his arms over his chest. 'And it was, of course, pure chance that you managed to climax.'

She was getting to him. She loved this more than she probably should. Studying her nails, she carelessly shrugged again. 'Nah, I'm going to assume that you know the technicalities of the female body. But are you honestly going to claim that every time you have an orgasm, it's great sex?'

He unfolded his arms and drew himself up, suddenly looking a lot taller. 'No. But there's coming and there's almost screaming the house down.'

'I did not scream.' She was fairly sure she hadn't. She wasn't a screamer.

'You might as well have. I almost thought you were having a seizure.'

That was because at the time she had been so far gone in the heat of the moment that she'd forgotten he wouldn't be. The reminder was another in a long line of humiliations and she lost her taste for baiting him. 'Yes, I do tend to have bigger orgasms when it's been a while. I assure you it had nothing to do with you, although I suppose you'll do quite well for those prudish witches you like to go out with. Have we finished talking about this yet?' She looked away, unable to stomach looking at him just now. Maybe her new friend hadn't left the pub yet and she'd still be able to give herself a pity shag.

* * *

Draco's fists were clenched and he was glaring down at Hermione. To add insult to injury she'd just told him he hadn't done it for her? What the hell was she on about? He knew she'd enjoyed herself. She'd been so far gone that she'd mindlessly clawed at him and begged him for more. Why would she claim that she hadn't? Why wouldn't she let him keep any kind of dignity?

He wasn't the only one who had given in to temptation that night, and he certainly wasn't the only one handling it poorly.

For all her talk about how easy it was to sleep with someone and then pretend that nothing had changed, she certainly did a poor job of trying not to alienate him. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was afraid he'd want her again!

Well, her fear was justified. He did want her.

All her talk about his alleged lack of prowess was pissing him off, but at the same time all that talk of her orgasming... it made him remember how it had felt. It made him want to feel it again.

Maybe he ought to make her remember as well. It seemed like she could use a good reminder. He ignored the voice telling him that the combination of red-hot anger and searing lust couldn't lead to anything good.

'If we've finished here...' she said, attempting to push past him to get to the door.

He easily stepped back to block her and then locked it.

'What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?' she growled. 'I'm finished here! I have someone waiting for me!'

'It has occurred to me that maybe I need to rectify something.'

Her eyes flickered and she faltered a bit. 'Like what?'

He reached down to smoothly remove her wand from her. Somehow, he deemed that safer. Then he tangled his hands in her hair, ignoring her wince. 'Obviously, I can't live with being just barely "adequate", as you put it.'

'Why not?' she asked, trying to pull back, but he held her in place, refusing to let go. 'You've been getting by whilst being just barely adequate in everything else so far,' she added.

He smiled, and then threw her against the door, forcing her to fling up her arms, so she wouldn't hit it face first. Before she could push away, though, he came up behind her, pushing her flat against it. He could practically feel her shaking with anger, and made sure she couldn't headbutt him as he bent down to whisper in her ear, 'Take it back and I have no issue with you.'

He wasn't concerned about physically hurting or intimidating her. They'd been partners for seven years. Seven long years filled with annoyances and arguments, but also with enough shared violence that he knew exactly how far he could go before he would even begin to push her limits, and what signs to look for when those limits were reached. As it was, she was still in a position where she could--and probably gladly would--dismember him if she felt he took it too far.

She tried to free herself, but she didn't have enough room to move, and he only pushed harder against her. 'Step back,' she coldly said. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

That was a blatant lie. He knew that given half the chance, she would make him bleed on principle. He shifted his hips slightly, pressing against her so she could feel what their conversation had done to him, and he heard her gasp. 'Maybe this is how you like it...' he mused, a bit surprised at himself. This wasn't him. Clearly she brought out the worst in him and he should go. Never mind Hermione's limits--since when did he use any kind of force on a woman that hadn't been assessed and classified as a lethal threat first?

Then again, Hermione was very likely to be a lethal threat to him after this.

She stilled. By now she'd be furious and trying to verbally emasculate him even worse than she already had. But damn, he couldn't get the image of her writhing under him out of his head. It was driving him mad. It was making him fantasise about roughly doing things to her that no man should ever even consider doing to a woman. Of course, in his fantasies, she wanted him to do it. She begged him to continue.

'Is that what you get off on?' she asked, her voice far less angry than he'd expected and more... curious? He frowned. That was certainly an odd turn.

'No,' he said, his voice clipped with anger and frustration that right now he was getting off on it. 'I don't like casual sex; I don't like violent sex; I--'

'Do it,' she interrupted him.

Two simple words that sent what blood was left in his brain rushing to his groin. 'What?' he said. Stupid question.

'Do it,' she repeated, turning her head to look at him. 'Like this. Prove to me that you know how to handle a witch like me, at least in bed.' She was taunting him, but there was a real request in her eyes. A real vulnerability.

He closed his eyes on an exhale. He should be disgusted or at the very least able to say no, but he feared that he was very much neither of those things. What was she doing to him?

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Cake and Other Curses, Chapter 10/10

2012-05-25T02:24:38Z

Title: Cake and Other Curses
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Angst, Drama, Health, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Physical Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione is far too fond of cake and all but attached to Harry at the hip. Generally, it's working out for her, but lately Draco has been annoying her to death by mocking her weight and her relationship with Harry. One day she spots some logic in his claims that she and Harry ought to be more than friends. Uncertain how to proceed, she agrees when Draco volunteers to help. This turns out to get very confusing very fast, as Hermione finds herself becoming attracted to the wrong person...
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and dollfaced for the beta, handiangel for the Britpick, and wh3tst0n3 for the extra beta on 9+10. You guys are brilliant. :)
Chapter Length: 6,209

* * *

"You arsehole," Harry said, his voice quiet from shock. "Can’t you say anything redeeming? Anything at all?"

"Why would—" Draco cut off as realisation seemed to dawn on him and he shot to his feet, loudly knocking over his cane. "You didn’t!"

"Don’t worry," Harry’s voice had gone hoarse. "By now she probably hates us both so much she doesn’t care whether we live or die, much less who you’re planning to be with."

"I’m not planning to be with anyone!" Draco almost shouted, his voice sounding like he might be looking around. Fortunately, nobody else in the pub really responded. Apparently a bit of drama was par for the course around here. Hermione hunched forwards, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. There was little hope of escaping now, but she could always hope he’d simply leave. "I was antagonising you, you nosy sod," Draco continued in a low growl. "She’s the leading specialist in—" He seemed to catch sight of something because he apparently lost his train of thought.

Hermione sat completely still, wishing he’d disappear. Or she'd disappear. Someone definitely needed to disappear.

"Go away, Potter," Draco then said.

"I can’t."

"Leave."

"No."

Hermione finally gathered the courage to look up and over her shoulder, keeping her eyes veiled by the hat, and it became painfully obvious that she had been found out as Draco was staring right at her. "It’s all right, Harry," she said, surprised at the calmness in her own voice. "You’ve done quite enough."

"I know," he said. "I thought if only I dug harder..." He swallowed. "You know I just wanted to help."

"I know." That was all the concession she could make right now. It should be enough. Although she didn’t turn far enough to see him, she heard Harry's reluctant departure.

Draco was simply staring at her.

She shrugged. "He tricked me too," she said. "And I think it’s quite obvious he'd misunderstood a few things..." He’d certainly misunderstood how Draco felt, but at least now she could know that for certain. There was something to be said for closure.

At least she hoped there would be, as soon as the pain went away.

He still didn’t talk. Clearly, he felt mortified. She didn’t blame him. He’d been rather frank in a way she was certain he’d never meant for her to hear. He could still be cruel, true, but not quite to that extent. He would've been kinder in saying the same things if he'd known she could hear him.

"Here’s what will happen," she said when he didn’t make a move to fill the silence that seemed to be stretching between them, even in the steadily noisier pub. "I will get up and walk away and we will each go on as planned. All right?" She got to her feet, quickly turning her back to him so there was a chance he wouldn’t notice she’d been crying and began walking away.

"Wait," he said, sounding a bit lost and confused and scrambling to pick up the dropped cane. "The part about my ex..."

She hesitated but didn’t turn back around to face him. Facing him seemed impossible right now. "It’s all right, Draco."

"No, damn it. I didn't want to tell him, but she’s the leading specialist in treating chronic damage caused by unknown curses. They’ve been trying to get me to see her for years, but... I’ve been putting it off."

"I understand."

"Do you?" he sounded almost aggravated. "She’s living in Spain with her family. It’s not a trip I can make easily. Obviously, she can’t bring all of her equipment to Britain either, so that’s why I will have to leave."

Hermione nodded. It made sense, really. Everything made sense.

"I didn’t... think of her," he said. "With you, I mean."

She blushed. They were in a public place and she was dressed as a crone and he chose to talk about that? "I didn’t think you did."

"Then why won’t you look at me?"

She took a deep breath. It was a good question, really. "Because I don’t want to," she admitted. "I’d rather you simply follow your original plan and be gone without a word." She began walking again.

She didn't want to say goodbye to him in person. She couldn't. His mind was made up about what could and could not be done and there was nothing left to say.

Unfortunately, he was following her. "I’ll go," he whispered so low she almost missed it. "I don’t actually have much choice in that matter. Just... don’t..."

She waited for him to finish the sentence but he didn’t. They reached the door that led outside to the crisp night air. Noises could still be heard from inside the pub but out here was a separate reality, one cloaked in cool darkness. She preferred it out here. Out here she felt like she could hide better. Also, home was only a few steps and an Apparition away and she very much wanted to go home right now.

However, she had to ask. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t hurt. It’s not worth it."

"People don’t choose when to hurt, but I’ll keep your recommendation in mind." Wild dogs were currently fighting over her insides so she could hardly claim not to hurt. The funny thing was that right now she didn’t even care if he knew.

He moved in front of her, eradicating any vain hope that he hadn’t seen her face yet as she made the mistake of looking up and the light of a nearby lamp post illuminated her features.

"I might be getting worse, Hermione," he said, carefully studying her. She had to concentrate very hard on not wincing at what she knew he saw, all brought out to perfection by her hideous hat.

"I know."

"You don't want to deal with that."

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me." She was quickly losing patience with him. Why couldn't he simply be swift about it and go? She hadn't asked him for justifications. All she wanted was to be allowed to go home so she could cry over everything he had said tonight in peace.

"We could never be an option."

"No need to keep saying it. I heard you the first time."

"I have to keep saying it or I might forget." He looked genuinely upset. She supposed that he felt like he'd taken the only course of action available to him and needed her to agree with him.

"Look." She took a deep breath. "Of course you have to go. I’m not asking you to stay. I’d never ask you to stay." She felt a powerful pang in her chest as she said it. No, she'd never ask him to stay, but she wished that things were different so she wouldn't have to accept his going. "You need to take care of yourself. It’s very fortunate that you seem to have inspired your ex-fiancée to become the very person who could save you. Harry was simply... he’d misunderstood the situation with us."

"If he'd misunderstood that badly, then why were you crying?"

Her back stiffened with betrayal at him thoughtlessly bringing that up to her face rather than accepting the excuse she had conveniently provided them both with. "Because I’d misunderstood a few things as well," she said. "At least when you were simply gone there could be doubts."

"And now there aren't?"

"Should there be?"

He looked away. "Probably not."

Every time she thought it couldn't hurt any more, he found another way to increase the pain. Why would he call her on her feelings like that if he wasn't going anywhere with it? "I think we've said it all, don’t you?" She brushed past him without waiting for an answer. She needed to go home and spend the rest of the night not thinking about never seeing him again.

She’d only just made it a few steps when he grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around.

She tore her arm free. "What do you want now?"

"I'll be damned if I know, really!" His expression was almost panicked. "I just... feel like you shouldn't go right now. Not like this. Not when things are so... ugly between us."

She was running out of charity. It was like he wanted everything but wasn't prepared to give even the tiniest bit back. He'd never given her anything but empty flattery and love-making that didn't mean anything to him. "No, it would've seemed prettier to you if you hadn't had to actually deal with me, wouldn't it?"

"Damn it, Hermione!" Draco gritted out. "You were avoiding me. I thought you were with Potter. How was I supposed to know you’d feel anything at all about me leaving?"

Hermione flinched. She might be above caring that he knew but she really could live without him constantly mentioning it. "You weren’t supposed to know," she forced out past her hurt and humiliation. "You weren’t supposed to know any of it. Harry took that away from me and I will never forgive him that."

For a moment, Draco looked completely taken aback. "You're not actually saying...?"

"Oh, wouldn’t it be convenient for you if I denied it?" she scoffed, getting angrier by the second and deliberately using it to push back those stupid tears she didn't want him to see. "I deny it and you go off, happy to be rid of someone you don’t know what to do with."

"You think I want things to be the way they are?"

"No, of course you don't! It's not like you could have chosen to go in any number of ways that would have made me understand and yet chose to... do this!"

"I didn't choose for you to overhear my conversation with Potter. I had no idea you were there!"

Hermione deflated a little bit. "No, I suppose you didn't."

"Neither did I have any idea you had feelings for me."

She closed her eyes, her cheeks burning from the constant mortification of this conversation. "Could we stop talking about that? Preferably forever?"

He swallowed. "I regret starting anything with you."

"Oh, we've moved onto your regrets now? That's—that's just lovely. Because I was just wondering how to make tonight any worse."

"I should never have touched you," he forced out through clenched teeth. "Don't you see? It would never have come to this. I thought I could control it."

"But those robes were too gorgeous, I know."

"No, it was you!"

"Clearly it wasn't me, or we wouldn't be having this conversation." Her voice threatened to crack and she hated it. Tears threatened to spill again and she hated that even more. It made her furious at him, herself, and the whole world that she should be reduced to this, and for what? It was all her own fault because she didn't know how to guard her feelings better.

"I don't know what to say to that, Hermione."

That did it. "So maybe I’m not perfect like some stupid outfit—" once again she was reminded how she was dressed right at this moment and she tore off her hat and threw it to the ground "—I’m an actual person and we can’t have that, can we? So you leave me behind, not bothering to say goodbye, and play the martyr for sparing me your presence, is that it?"

"No!"

"Here, unfortunately I don't have the other robes to give to you as a parting gift, but have this set!" She tore at the ugly robes and the padding, not caring that she'd be cold in the thin clothes she'd worn underneath, throwing it to the ground. "Why don’t you remember this version of me instead? What’s the matter? Not glamorous enough for you?"

He stared at the clothes on the ground for a moment but then shook his head. "What do you want from me?"

Her chest clenched again. "Nothing." He clearly hadn’t taken a million hints. He wasn't going to suggest that they work something out. It made all the anger drain away, leaving only a hollow feeling inside her chest.

And with the hollowness came the realisation that she was now freezing. Draco seemed to notice that fact and hobbled over, heavily leaning on his cane, to put his cloak around her. She’d refuse but she was far too cold and unhappy to summon the will for it.

"I don't want you to worry about me," he murmured. "I'm past getting that kind of attention. It would be better if you could forget about me."

Instead of replying, she took the tiny step needed to get as close to him as she could and, before he could register what was happening, pulled down his head to place her cold lips on his. She wasn’t really working under the best of conditions, shivering even under his warm cloak, but she had to get her point through somehow.

His entire body stiffened and he didn’t respond immediately. She hadn’t counted on it. In fact, at this point she fairly figured this would be their last kiss. It was saturated with feelings of desperation and an early onset of bitterness on her end.

But at least she would have a last kiss before he stubbornly left her behind.

He raised his hand, as if to push her away, but then hesitated when it touched her cold arm. He was surprisingly warm, considering how pale and thin he was.

Just push me away one more time and be done with it.

His hand curled around her arm and he pulled her closer, deeper into his embrace, almost burning her. And his lips were so soft, so gentle, like they’d never dream of uttering the kind of hurtful things he’d say in a heartbeat if he thought it would get him the results he wanted. He was still leaning on his cane with his other hand and she realised she’d been keeping him on his feet for an awfully long time. He’d need to rest soon.

Her time was running out and she was beginning to panic.

She forced herself to pull away and took some satisfaction in his unwillingness to let her go. But she couldn't let this kiss continue. Not when he was leaving her. She did allow his arms to stay around her, though. It felt so nice and it was merely one last little indulgence.

Draco finally managed to hoarsely say, "You’re so cruel."

"Funny. Here I was thinking the same about you." Hermione countered.

"You’re not making this easy."

"Good. I don't want it to be easy for you."

He looked down, his teeth gritted. He obviously didn't like hearing this. Then he looked straight into her eyes as he said, "You’ll get over it."

It was like he’d punched her straight in the chest. She couldn’t breathe for the agony, and her heart screamed at her to get the hell out of there before he mangled it so badly she’d never be able to put it back together again. She had no choice but to step back, out of his arms. Trust him to even ruin that small pleasure for her.

"Will I?" she asked, her voice strangled and breathless from her own internal struggle. "Like your ex-fiancée did?"

"She’s happily married now."

"She’s also the leading expert in treating curses."

He shook his head, dismissing her. When did he ever not dismiss her? He'd never actually wanted them to be together. Not even once had he looked at her and thought, how can I make this happen?

That knowledge hurt worst of all.

"That has nothing to do with her feelings for me," he said.

She swallowed, working hard to keep her tears back long enough to finish this. "Of course it does. You can hurt those who love you all you want, Draco. You can cut us to pieces with that treacherous tongue of yours and make us wish we’d never even met you. But whether we love you or not... that’s never going to be something within your control. Neither is whether we are happy without you. Your ex learned to go on with her life, but I can assure you that the one that has the least credit for her happiness is you."

His face had become completely inscrutable at the mention of his ex's happiness. "You're wrong. She has the child she always wanted. Something I could never have provided. And she has found her purpose."

"I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of adoption, then? Or is that another bit of pure-blood idiocy—to only want to raise biological children? As for her purpose, I think she found that the minute you were hit. You simply didn’t stay around long enough for it to mature."

He shook his head. "Look, Hermione, I just don’t think..."

"Don’t worry, I’m not stupid." Damn, the world was getting blurrier. "I realise you don’t care that Portkeys and Apparition are no issue for me and that you’re only using this excuse to be rid of me."

His eyes snapped to hers. "I’m most certainly not—"

"I even realise th-that I’m nothing like your ex-fiancée to you." The thin front she'd managed to put on was truly beginning to crack. "I took a hint quite well, even before you had that talk with Harry. I only want for you to realise that you aren’t protecting anyone but yourself by doing this."

"Hermione—" he began again.

"No!" She held up her hand. "No. I know. It's done. It's over. I hope you have a long and happy life."

She knew when she was beat. She'd tried everything she could possibly think of and it hadn't changed a thing. It was time to stop embarrassing herself and start facing the facts.

He didn't love her or even want her enough to accept her love.

She Disapparated before he had a chance to grab her again and prolong her suffering.

* * *

Ignoring how she felt didn't seem to be an option for Hermione any longer. She felt everything. Yet whilst she knew she would be feeling like death on legs for a very long time, she'd already decided by the time the sun rose not to let it show.

Her pain was private.

Besides, it could hardly compare to someone who'd actually lost something, could it? Draco wasn't dead, he was leaving her. Voluntarily. And they hadn't even been together to begin with, so who was she to make her own disappointment into more than it was?

Oddly enough, scoffing at herself didn't make her feel any better.

Still, she got out of bed. She ate. She bathed. She got dressed. She even put on makeup.

After this enormous effort, she congratulated herself, feeling like she deserved a medal for having such a great start, and even considered going down to Diagon Alley for lunch, to show everyone that she was fine.

Because she would be fine, she'd decided. Maybe not today, but if she pretended to be fine long enough, sooner or later it would become the truth. She hoped.

But then there was a knock on her door.

She didn't particularly care for company right now, but answering the door would be a great first step towards showing the world that she was managing. Also, if it were Harry, she could slam it in his face. True, that would probably be a hint that she was somewhat affected, but the gratification would be worth it.

It wasn't Harry.

She blinked a few times at the blond wizard leaning against her doorpost, and then she slammed the door in his face. How dare he! Why would he even show his face here!? She frowned, realising there was only one way to answer this question, and then reluctantly opened the door again. He hadn't moved. He looked cautious but also a little amused.

"What?" she greeted him. She had no patience for someone who could laugh in her face after hurting her so badly mere hours before. Okay, so maybe he wasn't laughing but that was definitely almost a smile. She couldn't take any more heartbreak right now. She'd reached her limit. Any more and she couldn't picture herself getting out of bed, let alone convincing the world that she was fine.

"You forgot your costume last night," he said as if that was a perfectly valid reason for him to be there. She had half a mind to slam the door in his face again.

"I didn't forget anything."

"Oh. That long walk all for nothing. And my leg is even aching quite a bit today..."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn't carrying anything. It didn't take a genius to be suspicious... and a little hopeful in spite of her own best attempts to squash it. "Why are you here when you're leaving the country?"

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me in."

Reluctantly she moved aside because chances were that his leg actually was giving him pain. She wasn't thrilled about his presence in her flat, though. What if she forgot her decision to be fine and began weeping again? "I still require an answer."

He carefully made his way past her into her sitting room and heavily sat down on her sofa. "I should've been on a boat about an hour ago."

So soon? "Then why aren't you?" Don't be here unless you mean it. No, not even then. He simply shouldn't be here. Damn him for not allowing her to be fine.

"Because, Chubs, you made it impossible for me to go."

"What?"

He leaned forward. "If I'd gone, I would've never seen you again. After last night, I realised I couldn't. So I didn't."

The way he looked at her and the full meaning of what he'd said was undeniable. He couldn't go. Because of her.

No. She mustn't feel happy about that. She mustn't. Because then she would be the selfish one. She could never accept him like this. "That's ridiculous!" she forced herself to say. "What about your treatment?"

That broke his gaze as he looked away. "I don't need it."

His avoidance told her everything and her heart sank. "So you're just using me as your excuse not to go."

That clearly took him aback. "I'm what?"

"You're afraid of going and I'm convenient."

"That's not—" She raised an eyebrow at him and he cut off. "All right," he then admitted, "perhaps I am looking for excuses not to go. But this is partly why I didn't want to have to say goodbye to you!" He put his elbows on his knees and leant forward, burying his hands in his hair.

"Is it really that scary?" she quietly asked, trying hard to bury this new hurt. This wasn't about her. She could cry later. "Isn't it possible that she'll be able to cure you?"

"Forget about cures. She's my last hope of ever even learning what's wrong with me and what to expect. To know whether I'll live or die if no cure can be found. And maybe she won't be able to figure even that out and I'll be left with a lifetime of not knowing if I'll suddenly drop dead or if I have a chance of growing old." He swallowed. "So, no, it's not scary. It's bloody terrifying."

She sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm, even though she knew she shouldn't be touching him at all if she wanted to come out of this even somewhat intact. "You have to be on the next boat."

He raised his head again and shook it, still not looking at her. "That's in a week. And it's not even certain she'd agree to treat me any longer. She always did have a temper."

"Of course she'll agree," Hermione scoffed. Someone who'd chosen her life's vocation to save someone else didn't turn around and deny them treatment simply because they were scared and sabotaging themselves.

"Ok. She probably would. I'm still not going."

"Yes, you are."

He finally looked at her. "You want me gone?"

"You know better than that."

"Then I stay."

She shook her head. How could she be with someone if it actively endangered his life? She couldn't and she resented him for putting her in this position. If he really wanted to give them a chance, it had to be in another way. "If you stay, I can't be with you."

He bared his teeth in an annoyed sneer. "Then what was last night?"

"Forget last night." Sometimes she very much hated her life. She didn't want to have to be the one to reject him. Not even after all the crude and insensitive things she'd overheard him say yesterday.

"Forget last night?" He sounded incredulous. "Do you even realise what you're asking? You admitted you were in love with me! I didn't think that could ever happen."

Please don't remind me. "It should've remained a secret, considering the circumstances."

"That's not it, though, is it?" He seemed to deflate. "You don't want to be tied to someone who's sick. And it's not like I can't understand that. What do I have to offer?"

She had to grit her teeth against the implied accusation that she'd only want to be with someone who was completely healthy. "More if you go."

He sighed and shot her a dull look. "That doesn't even make any sense, Hermione. If I go, I'll lose you. But if I stay, I've lost you as well because you want to force me to go. I really can't ever win."

"We could attempt to sort something out," she carefully suggested.

"Like what? You'll grab a Portkey to Spain every other weekend? Every month? A couple of times a year? And if we do sort something out, then what if—"

"Oh, sod your what-ifs!" Hermione hissed, fed up with this poor excuse for a wizard who wouldn't even try. "People die, Malfoy. Every day. It's awful but it's no excuse to stop living. And they break up too. And struggle with things like long distance relationships, infertility and obesity. How come you can’t see that life isn’t perfect and stop asking for all or nothing? I can't give you perfection, I can only give you me."

He stared at her in honest bafflement. "You really mean that?"

"Of course I mean it!" She hesitated, but then she gathered all of her courage and ventured, "And I've been thinking about taking a leave of absence anyway."

"Leave of absence?" he echoed.

"Yeah. I want to write a book. And if that goes well, maybe I'll write another. I heard Spain is nice this time of... well, all times of year, really." She wiped her suddenly clammy hands on her knees, trying in vain to tell herself to stop being nervous. If he rejected her offer, it would be his loss. She had a life here too. A life without him, granted, but still.

She really ought to know better than to try to lecture herself at this point. She never listened.

Draco's eyes were inscrutable. "And what about your job at the Ministry?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, it's come to my attention that I have this very competent assistant who's never had an opportunity to shine. Now he will get every opportunity he ever wished for. He could maybe even hire his own assistant."

A slow smile spread across his features. "You really are adorable."

"Adorable?" She was slightly piqued by this reaction to her offer of completely redesigning her life to be with him. She felt rather generous even talking to him after last night! "I’m not your pet!"

His grin widened some more. "If I did have a pet, though, I’d absolutely call it Chubs."

"What, like a cat?" She was completely distracted by this odd turn of conversation.

"I was thinking more along the lines of an owl. You do have that owlish look." He reached over and tugged at one of her wayward curls.

"An owl!"

"Or a unicorn."

"That’s absurd! A unicorn’s not even a—wait, why are you suddenly joking?" She shot him a dubious glance.

"Aren't I allowed to be in a good mood? You just said you're coming with me, didn't you?" he asked, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I wouldn't say I'm coming with you..." she said in a vain attempt to keep a little of her independence.

"Would this be the wrong time to tell you that I never returned the necklace and try to use it to bribe you to acknowledge that you're coming with me?"

She blinked. "You stole it?"

"No, you ninny. I paid for it. I went back to the shop with money instead of jewellery."

She shot him a dubious look, but decided he couldn't know how she'd felt about that necklace. "Why?"

"Because it was a physical reminder of you. Of making love to you. I know you think I only found you beautiful because of the robes and necklace, but they mean nothing to me outside of the context that is you."

"And yet you kept the necklace and not me." She knew he could tell she was still hurt, but she hadn't completely forgiven him, not yet. Perhaps it was good that he knew that.

He swallowed and shot her a very cautious look. "I actually didn't mean to keep it. I wanted to give it to you, but I didn't know how. I wanted you to see how I saw you that night. How you were the one to make that stupid mix of minerals and metal shine. But I knew you wouldn't accept that, so I just..." He shrugged. "I suppose it was a bad investment. I can get rid of it. Would you prefer that?"

Hermione shrugged a little awkwardly. This was a lot to parse. "Let me think about it for a while."

He pursed his lips. "I guess there's still time to argue about that as well then, but all in all you’re right."

"Of course I’m right!" She paused and frowned. "About what?"

"Life happens. And I want you with me. Besides, I just remembered that I don't mind being selfish enough to ask you to come along." He pursed his lips. "But I have to warn you..."

Uh-oh. "About what?"

"My ex is going to have her revenge, one way or the other. I predict her at least making me very ill for a while. Intentionally."

Hermione relaxed a bit. "Oh, is that all? Good."

He shot her a rather resigned look. "Good?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I think she deserves a bit of payback. You were horrible towards her, after all. And now you aren't even on that boat! In fact, I'll be cheering her on to do her worst."

He seemed to be fighting a grin. "So... this is how you're planning on being supportive?"

"Pretty much."

"That’s just mean, Chubs."

She made a face at his nickname of choice. "Didn't you hear? Hell hath no wrath like a woman who has to endure the nickname Chubs."

"Guess I'll have to endure your wrath, then... Chubs." The hand that had been playing with her hair slid down to cover her neck.

"You're never letting it go, are you?"

"Never."

"Hm." She pondered that for a second. "Then I guess I'll have to lose weight."

"You could labour under the delusion that that might work," he said and drew her closer.

Hermione was torn. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day kissing Draco, but on the other hand, she wasn't done sorting things out.

"What?" he asked, against her lips when she didn't immediately respond to the caress.

"Why do you call me Chubs if you supposedly find me attractive?"

He drew back and looked at her for the longest time. Long enough to make her squirm and wish she hadn't asked. "If you really don't like it, then I'll stop," he then quietly said. "It's just... it's come to mean something to me."

"What does it mean?"

"You. Everything I love about you. I don't simply mean curves; I mean... you. And it's a version of you that is all mine."

Damn it. When he put it like that, she couldn't argue. When he put it like that, it seemed like its own declaration of love, which made her feel like she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet.

But being Hermione, it also made her think of another question.

"So why did you try to set me up with Harry?"

"Ah. That." He grimaced. "I thought it was what you wanted."

She frowned. "I'm not certain I believe that."

"Believe it. I hated every second of it."

"So why did you still do it if you hated it so much?"

He shrugged. "Because I'd fallen for you and I thought it would make you happy. The way the two of you acted together. The jealous way he tried to warn me away from you. I was trying to be selfless, you know."

"The what way he tried to what?" Hermione found that very hard to believe of Harry.

"Yeah. He caught me staring at you and issued a warning."

Peculiar. Annoying. Intrusive. Who was Harry to warn off anyone? Ugh, these men! "And that didn't make you try to get in my knickers immediately?"

"I might have tried, if I hadn't had such strong feelings for you."

She blushed. She definitely liked this conversation better than the one they'd had yesterday. Even if both Draco and Harry had been a couple of overbearing gits, trying to decide for her who she should be with. "Ah. I see."

"I also suppose that I felt I owed him a life debt or two. But if I hadn't thought you wanted him, I would never have tried to get the two of you together. My debt wasn't that big."

She couldn't help but grin at his priorities.

"But, Hermione?" Draco softly asked.

"Yes?"

"I just thought you might want to know, now that you're stuck with me, that you might want to be wary of my mother."

That sobered her a bit and she sighed. "I know. She'll hate me for being Muggle-born."

"No. I mean, sort of, yes, but that's not it. We'll cure her of that, eventually." He seemed to not even question that fact and it warmed Hermione like nothing else he could say.

"Then what?"

His eyes gained a mischievous glint. "You won't believe it, but she makes the best fairy cakes known to the wizarding world."

"What?" She drew back to give him an incredulous stare. "I refuse to believe that."

"Believe it. She has to spend her time doing something, doesn't she? You should see how she decorates them. Almost a pity to eat, really."

Hermione blinked a few time, trying to process this new information. "I knew that woman was pure evil!"

He sniggered and drew her closer again. "I think being with you is the best idea I ever had. Or worst. I'm leaning towards worst, so it's good I'm so fond of bad ideas."

"Technically, I think this was Harry's idea."

That wiped the grin from his face. "Crap."

"I know!" she agreed. "He'll be insufferable once he learns that it worked. He'll never stop meddling now."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I vote that we never tell him. How would you feel about never talking to him again?"

She considered that for a very short time. "At the moment? Not that bad, actually."

"Good. Then that's settled. But I do have one problem."

"What would that be?"

"I missed my boat. I have no place to stay until the next one."

He was clearly lying, the opportunistic prat. He must have been staying with his parents until now. But two could play that game. "Oh, I'm certain we could work something out."

"Yeah?" The way he leaned into her was all suggestion.

"Yeah." An impish grin spread over her features. "Let me just owl Harry. You two do seem to get along so swimmingly, and after what he did to me, he'll have to take you in. Now he owes me, after all, and we don't have to tell him a thing."

Draco scowled at her. "Come to think of it, I'm sure that won't be necessary."

"Of course it will!" she insisted. "We can't have you living out on the streets, can we? Besides, in case I do ever forgive Harry, it would be lovely if you'd made friends with him as well. What better way than to share close quarters for a while?"

The horrified look on Draco's face was all the answer she needed. She hid a smirk. She couldn't wait to see Harry's reaction when she told him about his new temporary flatmate. If that didn't teach the two men in her life not to try to manipulate her, nothing else would.

Last Chapter

Master List

The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge, Chapter 8

2012-05-13T23:24:04Z

Title: The Complexity of Carnal Knowledge
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Mild Kink, Mild Violence, Polyjuice (Body Switch), Profanity, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Threesome
Warning Note: I do not warn per chapter. What I warn for may be in chapter 1 or chapter 39 and they may or may not be what you expect them to be. If you have a very specific trigger, you can PM me for details pertaining to that specific thing, otherwise tough luck, cookie.
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Through a series of uncontrollable events and deliberate decisions, Draco and Hermione are now, a little more than a decade after the war, both working as Aurors. Draco is a complete git and the only one who'll pair up with him for anything is Hermione. This is suiting her less and less, though, so she tries to open his eyes to all the things that have changed. An open-eyed Draco, however, is a force to be reckoned with.
Extra Note: Thank you to margotlefaye, dollfaced and mazvn for the beta and robs55 for the Britpick. You guys rock! You saved this story. :D
Chapter Length: 4,905

* * *

Hermione stretched out on top of the bed, considering whether Draco was actually going to come and join her. She ended up deciding that, yes, he would. He could be as stubborn as any spoiled prat was wont to be, but he didn't actually have a very strong will. He just needed time to talk himself into it.

And if he didn't decide to come into the bedroom and alleviate some of her tension, she had brought some really interesting toys she could use. All Muggle, of course, since she wasn't supposed to use magic here, but that wasn't going to lessen her fun with them. She might even "forget" to put them back afterwards, simply to see his face when he came across them and realised exactly what he'd missed.

She would love to see his face as he discovered her toys. Even more so when he slowly worked out that she'd probably brought them before and used them too. She could vividly imagine him trying to work out exactly when and how she'd been using them without him discovering it. Fun!

The door slammed open to reveal a scowling Draco, who immediately began pulling off his jumper, his movements almost angry. Hermione quirked an eyebrow, but didn't comment. She suspected that angry sex with Draco Malfoy just might be worth it. Besides, he was always put out with her and vice versa.

'Let's be clear on some rules,' he said, already in the process of unbuttoning his trousers.

Hermione pursed her lips, somewhat amused. 'I didn't know you were into that kind of play,' she teased.

He looked unamused. 'If I should accidentally touch you whilst we sleep, you will not attack me.'

She nodded. 'Fair enough.'

He shot her an annoyed look. 'And whilst we're in that bed, you'll be more respectful towards me than you usually are.'

'And if we should roll out of it?' she cheekily asked.

Having freed himself of all but his underwear, he growled and launched at her, pinning her down. 'I'm serious,' he hissed. 'I don't want you to keep insulting me. It's difficult enough as it is.'

Difficult? That sobered Hermione. 'All right,' she quietly said. 'I'll play nice. But you don't have to do this if you don't want to. We could pretend tonight never happened.' Against her better judgement, she was struggling not to try to seduce him regardless. She knew she shouldn't want to sleep with him if he didn't truly want to, but she needed someone to touch her, and, well, she thought she might like him doing it. Even if he was angry. Or maybe especially if he was angry.

'You think I'd be here if there was any way for me to say no?' he whispered, and then his lips were on hers, harshly demanding a response from her.

He got his response, of course. She'd been waiting for him to come in here. She hadn't quite expected him to tell her that he didn't want to after he'd already given in, but she could live with that. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd substituted for someone else or merely been a random body and, besides, all she wanted was a warm-blooded male between her legs. Any warm-blooded male. His motivations didn't matter; the outcome was the same.

She slid her arms around his neck and pushed against him, especially enjoying the feel of his chest against hers. She'd seen his chest so many times without ever imagining this. Clearly, that had been an unforgivable lack of imagination on her part.

His one hand snuck around her back, and with a minimal amount of awkwardness, he unhooked her bra.

'Impressive,' she commented, unable to help herself.

'Ex made me practice after one memorable evening of bra-related injuries,' he murmured against her lips.

Hermione did her best not to laugh. 'Hers or yours?'

Draco shot her a quirky smile. 'After all was said and done, both.'

Hermione giggled because she couldn't help herself, and she didn't even pretend to have a modesty attack as he revealed her breasts. But then he stared at her chest and just kept staring for so long she began feeling self-conscious. She resented him for that. Her body was fine, thank you very much. She did her best to keep everything in the right place and in good working order, and nobody had ever had any complaints! 'You can't insult me either,' she said, but then immediately also resented having said that. It implied she cared. She didn't.

He finally looked up. 'You think it's an insult when a man stares at you, Granger?'

'Depends on how he does it,' she muttered.

'I was only considering how to best ask you if you had any Muggle protection with you, or if you'd allow me to use a spell, because if not, we're going to need more rules.'

'I'm protected,' she replied. 'Against everything you could possibly imagine and a few things I'm certain you can't.' She was even using multiple protections, simply because she didn't trust either the spells or her implant to never ever fail her. Some things were not worth the risk.

'You certain?'

She shot him an annoyed glance. Of course she was certain! It would be damn irresponsible of her not to be. She liked her flings uncomplicated. Unprotected sex was about as complicated as it got. That was one complication she didn't need to face in her life again. He didn't actually seem to be implying anything with it, but he should still have taken her word for it. She wasn't some random bird he'd picked up at a pub; they'd known each other almost all of their lives! Why would she lie about something like this? She wasn't that irresponsible! If he kept this up, she was going to make him wear a Muggle condom too!

She opened her mouth to tell him all this and more, when he held up a hand, enough of a mind reader to know what was coming and enough of a git to be amused. 'Hey, just checking. Stop glaring at me like that.' He kissed her again, and then slowly ran his lips down her neck to her right breast, which he began teasing by leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Still feeling a little angry, she threaded her fingers through his hair, grasping fistfuls, but he didn't seem in any great hurry to move it along. Her lower belly was knotted so tightly that she felt like it would never un-knot again. Regardless of anger, she needed to come so badly. It felt like it had been ages since she'd been with a man and she was quite frankly half out of her mind with need.

'That's enough,' she rasped, catching him unawares as she flipped him on his back. 'I prefer to be on top.' She straddled him and ran her hand down his chest, squeaking when she was almost immediately flipped back with his hands tightly grabbing her wrists in case she should try anything again.

'I bet you do,' he replied. 'But tonight you're doing things my way.'

'What? Missionary position?' she asked, wrinkling her nose. She didn't really mind missionary, but it figured that that would be all he was into. What a waste of good potential.

'Doesn't it get tiring to always be the one on top?' he asked, lowering his head.

'I'm not always on top. But I could ask you the same thing.'

'Are you telling me,' he muttered, in between nibbling at her neck in a most distractive manner, 'that those blokes you find, wherever you find them, don't do things exactly like you tell them to? I find that hard to believe. You're a force of nature, Granger.'

'I don't always tell them that I want to be on top,' she said rather breathlessly, as her ability to think was rapidly disappearing. 'On top is when I'm afraid they'll come too soon or--' or I need to come as soon as possible.

His head whipped up and he pinned her with a glare. 'I thought I told you not to insult me!'

She blinked. Well, if he'd only let her finish the sentence! She grinned, feeling wicked, and decided that he could keep his misconceptions. 'If I'd wanted to insult you, I'd have suggested you take me from behind.'

'And why's that?'

'That's the position I prefer for... smaller... men. You know, below average.' She managed to free one wrist and held up a couple of fingers to show an exaggerated short length.

His brow knitted as he was trying to figure her out.

She decided to clarify. 'They enter me deeper like that, plus they can more easily make it worth my while by touching me...' She carefully freed the other wrist and ran one hand down between her legs to fondle her knickers, whilst squeezing one of her breasts with the other. It was both to show a point and to ease some of the aching. Merlin, she needed him to take her soon or she'd go mad! The hand down between her legs inadvertently brushed against his erection through his boxers and he groaned. Seemed like she wasn't the only one.

'And the ones that aren't too small or too quick?' he asked in a strained voice.

She shrugged as well as she could whilst lying under a man, touching herself. 'They get a vote on how they want it, I suppose.'

He bent down to whisper in her ear. 'I want you under me.'

Defiantly, she slipped her hand inside her knickers, and closed her eyes on a shaky sigh. She could feel his entire body stiffen above her. Suppressing a smile, she continued to play with herself, drawing out the sweet pain.

She needed a nice, hard cock inside her like she'd needed nothing before.

He moved and there was a slight rustle of clothes being removed, followed by a tug at her knickers. Oh, yes. She eagerly lifted her hips to help him get them off. After he had removed them, his hands again moved up her legs and thighs, moving to her inner thighs and-- she squirmed as his hands disappeared. Such a tease.

'Open your eyes,' he said, his voice hoarse with strain.

Reluctantly, she did.

He placed his one hand on her thigh very, very close to where she wanted to be touched. 'I'm on top,' he calmly said. 'You don't call the shots with me.'

'Fine,' she gritted out, desperate for him to proceed. She didn't care what position they were in, as long as they were in any position that gave her what she wanted.

He softly touched her just right and she moaned and thrust her hips up, seeking more.

'I don't think we have to be afraid that I'll embarrass myself before you get off,' he said, smirking.

'Only because I almost got myself off before you even came in here,' she retorted. That wasn't exactly true, but she could either be defensive or whimper for more. Normally she wouldn't mind whimpering, but she knew Draco well enough to know that it would make him insufferable for ages.

His answer to that was a predictably annoyed glare.

'Tell me you want me to fuck you,' he suddenly demanded, making her eyes widen in surprise. This was something she'd far from expected. Draco hated it when she used coarse language, which largely was why she usually did around him. Who knew he'd be completely opposite in bed? There was a chance it wasn't a common thing, though. It could be that he simply felt extra naughty, considering that he was about to screw someone he'd considered off-limits for decades.

Or maybe he felt extra dirty for screwing her.

She pushed that thought aside.

Still, the thought of what else he might be into had her almost melting into a highly aroused puddle. 'I want you to fuck me, please,' she replied, this time unable to keep a slight whimper from her voice. The sheer impact of talking like this to him was tremendous. Maybe letting him feel like he was in charge wasn't such a bad thing, after all. She could deal with him being insufferable. After all, hadn't she already dealt with that for two decades?

'Hard and fast or slow and easy?' he asked, his eyes boring into hers.

She could barely make the words come out. 'H-hard. Please, Draco. Take me hard.'

* * *

Draco suppressed a groan and the shiver threatening to run visibly through him. She already thought he was going to blow it like a teenager, it would do no good to prove to her how almost right she was. He doubted she would have mercy on him just because it had been months. Witches like Hermione only gave you one shot and if they didn't like your efforts... well, too bad.

He couldn't blow his shot and still look her in the eyes at work.

Fortunately, she seemed to be almost mindless, needing release. And she wanted it fast and hard, which was also fortunate, because he didn't think he could go slow once he got started. And being gentle... it would have been very hard for him to be focused enough for that.

Why had he never noticed how passionate she was before? It was as if he didn't know her at all.

'Please,' she whispered. 'Don't wait. I'm ready. Don't need foreplay.'

He slid his fingers down between her legs and swiftly entered her with two of them. She gasped and arched up against him. Yes, she was ready. Ready and responsive like he would never have dreamed. Her hips began gyrating against his hand, and he pushed his fingers in deeper, twisting them slightly and pushing when he felt the right spot.

She made a surprised exclamation. 'Why, M-Malfoy,' she gasped. 'For someone prudishly prudish who's only ever slept with prudes, you certainly do know the basics.'

It wasn't in bed he couldn't keep his girlfriends happy. Sex was the easy part. He would forgive her the insult, though, since the way she was squirming made him suspect that she was only a hair's breadth away from orgasming. He bent down to whisper in her ear, 'Do you want me inside you or not?' Fat chance that he would even be able to stop himself by now.

'Yes. Hard and fast,' she muttered, running her hands down his back to grasp his bum and pull him towards her. 'Now.' It was phrased as a command but was really little more than a whimper.

He couldn't resist; he removed his hand and surged forward, entering her completely in one thrust. She cried out in surprised pleasure, and he had to grab hold of the sheets to try and channel some of the intensity elsewhere, so he could remain in control. Merlin, it felt good. She was hot and wet and soft and tight, squeezing him rhythmically, as her hips were moving against him again. He was hanging on by a thread.

'More...' She squirmed more insistently under him.

He couldn't help the shuddering groan escaping from his lips. It just felt so good to be inside her, to be inside someone warm and willing once again. Clenching his jaw, he began moving--hard and fast as she'd requested. It had been too long, it really had. He was almost blinded and deafened by the intensity of the need pouring through him.

This would go much too fast for his liking. He wouldn't truly have a chance to enjoy it before-- he clenched his fists harder in the sheets and bent down to breathe in her heat and her scent, never letting up on his thrusts.

Warm. Willing. Passionate.

He felt her orgasm building beneath him. Felt her mindlessly grabbing at him, throwing her legs around him, clawing to find an anchor to hold her steady through this vortex inside her. She was babbling something incoherent, that might have been, 'Don't stop, please don't stop'--as if he could ever stop. Then she tensed, going quiet except for the occasional broken gasp and moan. He went harder, faster, and then... it was all around him, tensing, squeezing, throbbing. He was vaguely aware that she made some sounds as she climaxed, but he was too intent on riding this out, on getting as much of it as he could before he couldn't hold back any longer, to pay much notice.

She whispered his name and somehow it broke through his haze. He looked up, and she kissed him deeply, stroking his tongue with hers. It sent a jolt through his already oversensitised system, and he tried to draw back, but it was too late. He couldn't resist the pull of her sexuality and with a low moan, he thrust deep and came hard.

* * *

Hermione slowly woke, feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. She yawned, and attempted to stretch, only to feel constricted by something warm behind her, around her, limiting her movement.

Oh. Right.

Malfoy's still naked body was fully pressed up against hers, and she wasn't completely sure what to do about that. She'd promised not to beat him, after all. He shifted a bit in his sleep, and she felt what she assumed to be his morning erection pressed against her.

She debated a bit what to do. On the one hand, the sex had been very intense and pleasurable, and she wouldn't really mind going for another round. If she hadn't been so exhausted last night after the first round, she might have initiated another one right then and there. On the other hand, the sun was up and Draco was the sort who'd appreciate boundaries. Last night was last night and this morning was... well, hopefully the day they heard from the Ministry.

It was always a pity to let a good erection go to waste, but there really wasn't anything to be done for it. With a sigh, she got up and went out to wash and get dressed, only returning to wake him when completely clothed and brushing her teeth--she had to have some fun in life, didn't she?

'Rise and shine,' she cheerfully said, pulling the duvet off him.

His eyes flew open and he gave her a long, disoriented look as he got up on his elbows. He then gazed down his own naked form, as if only just noticing his own state of nudity, before he fell back to stare at the ceiling, groaning. It would be a lie to say his wordless reaction didn't hurt. It did, more than she'd like to admit. And it was such an unfair reaction, too--she'd hardly forced him! Who was he to make her feel bad about what had been a perfectly nice evening of perfectly nice casual sex?

At least she hadn't tried to rouse him with more of it. Now she was rather relieved that she hadn't. She didn't particularly enjoy being coldly rejected the next day. She'd never seen any reason to be mean about not wanting more--especially not when parting amicably was very much an option for achieving the same thing, only with no hurt feelings.

'Look,' she said, drawing his eyes back on her. 'It happened. It was nice. We move on.' She went out to the bathroom to spit and rinse before he could reply. Her hands were shaking a little. Damn it. She'd been dismissed and disrespected the morning after before. It wasn't a huge deal. She would just... pretend nothing had ever happened and hope he got the hint that she really wasn't like the witches he was used to.

He joined her in the bathroom--also fully dressed, she noted--and eyed her hesitantly. 'Look, Hermione...' he began, but before he could get any further, they heard the front door slam.

'Hello? Anybody here?' a very familiar and most beloved voice called out.

Ron! Hermione dropped everything and pushed past Draco to run out into the arms of her dearest friend, squeezing him tight and giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. He was exactly what she needed right now to make this stupid hurt feeling go away.

'Whoa, there,' Ron said, laughing. 'Has it been that bad? Harry was worried you might have killed each other.'

'No, silly,' she said, swatting his chest. 'I missed you! I haven't seen you for at least a month!'

'Yeah, some of us aren't fortunate enough to get sent off on holidays,' Ron said, and then when Draco appeared in the doorway, he lowered his voice to say, 'Although I don't envy you the company.'

'Do you know if Magical Creatures got our message?' Draco asked, not appearing to make any note of the fact that Hermione and Ron had their arms around each other.

'They did,' Ron replied. 'They're sending their own werewolf tracker to take over the case and you're to report back to Harry.'

'Werewolf tracker?' Hermione asked, frowning. 'Is that a werewolf who tracks, or someone who tracks werewolves?'

'Both, apparently. It's a werewolf who tracks rogue werewolves.'

'If they suspected a werewolf, why didn't they send one of those right away?' Draco was sounding irritable, with good cause.

'Yeah, why didn't they?' Hermione chipped in, narrowing her eyes at Ron.

'I had nothing to do with it,' Ron said, holding up a hand. 'Don't kill the messenger. To be honest, I think Harry was just so fed up with your bickering that he sent you off on the first case he saw on his desk without giving it much thought.'

'Oh, that's mature,' Hermione scoffed. 'Not at all sloppy work.'

'I know. I think he knows too. Play your cards right, you can probably guilt him into giving you the best cases for a while. Are you ready to come back with me? I'll buy you breakfast.'

'Of course! Just let me get my things.' Hermione extricated herself from a male for the second time that morning and went into the bedroom to pack her bag, not making any great effort to be tidy about it. She was finally going home and that was all that mattered! She got her things from the bathroom, dumped them in her bag, and zipped it up. There. All done. She turned around and almost ran into Draco.

'So, what happens now?' he quietly asked.

She shrugged carelessly. 'We go back.' Then she went around him and out to Ron.

* * *

Draco sat in his cubicle, idly doodling on the piece of parchment that he was supposed to write his report on, and glancing over at Hermione, who already had several inches of her report done.

Always the swot.

He couldn't believe he'd slept with her. He simply couldn't. It was surreal. If anyone had asked him if he'd ever do that only two days ago, he would have laughed at them. Hell, if anyone had suggested to him that Hermione might like casual sex before they'd gone on this trip, he wouldn't have believed them. Look at her! She looked like a nice, normal witch; someone you'd go out with for a bit and then introduce to your parents (only not really in his case, since his parents still refused to acknowledge any witch not of pure blood)--not someone you picked up for a night of mindless fucking.

Although it had hardly been a whole night. They'd had sex once and it probably didn't say much about either of their stamina that it had almost knocked them right out. She'd gone first, curling up against him for warmth. He really doubted she remembered that part, considering how she didn't usually want that kind of physical proximity, and how she hadn't woken him until she was fully covered and doing something that annoyed him again.

The proximity was probably what had delayed his regret. He should never have touched her. She wasn't supposed to be touched--at least not by him. She was one of them, one of the War Heroes. She lived in a whole different world from him. In her world, the job of Auror was prestigious, whereas in his it was a stain on his family's honour. If that shouldn't have been enough to deter him, then the fact that he liked her--as a highly annoying yet extremely loyal and dependable partner--and that having a one-off with her was just plain wrong should have been. How the hell did you act around someone you liked and admired professionally, who had also given you one of the best orgasms in recent memory, when she preferred to act like nothing at all had happened?

'You're staring, Malfoy,' she hissed without looking up. 'Stop it.'

He didn't respond, but did as she asked, staring down at his blank parchment. Hermione wasn't going to agree to go out with him, even if he should decide he would want her to--which he actually didn't--so why was he even thinking about this? It had been a mistake. One he really wished they hadn't made. Now how was he going to sleep next to her or pretend to snog her without it being awkward?

Sighing, he put his quill to the parchment and began writing. He would have to talk to Potter and he hated that. He could only hope it wouldn't make things difficult for him in other ways.

* * *

'Could I talk to you for a minute?' Harry asked.

Hermione looked up from the file she was adding to, feeling caught. She'd only just come back from doing follow-up on some old case of hers and had hoped to sneak out and home early, cashing in on some of the extra hours she'd put in lately, but obviously that wasn't happening now. 'Of course,' she replied.

'In here.' He nodded towards his office.

Hermione followed him in, feeling extremely puzzled. Harry looked far too serious for this to be casual chit-chat. 'What is it?' she asked, sitting down in a chair whilst Harry leant on his desk.

'We didn't get a chance to talk yet,' Harry said. 'Did it work?'

It. Getting along. Trying to open Draco's eyes to the fact that maybe he was the one who needed to make a few changes in order to get along with people so he could get other partners and not only rely on Hermione all the time.

She looked down at her hands. 'I'm not at all certain it did.'

Harry sighed and went around his desk to sit down. 'I'd feared as much. I honestly don't know what to do about him. He keeps blocking people out, pushing them away. He can't stay on like that.'

'We still have some months left before I leave,' Hermione said. 'I'll try and see if I can kick that rusty old brain of his into gear before then. And, I mean, even if I fail, he'll realise that he'll need new partners soon enough, won't he?' He really wouldn't have many options left once she wasn't there to lean on.

'Maybe sooner than you'd think,' Harry said, looking a bit uncomfortable and shuffling some parchments around. 'I hate having to tell you this, but I'm really running out of options. Malfoy was in here this morning, requesting not to be sent out with you again if I could avoid it.'

That statement hit Hermione like a punch to the gut and she simply sat there, stupidly unable to speak, her whole body frozen with the shock. Seven years of having each other's back, gone. Just like that. Quite ironically, he'd stabbed her from behind.

She had never thought he'd do this no matter how he might feel about what had happened. Hadn't the whole point of why he'd kissed her in the first place been to preserve their partnership for as long as possible?

'It's really going to be difficult to avoid,' Harry continued, not noticing her frozen state. 'I don't go myself that often, what with the kids being so young; Ron is still wary after the coma-incident; and any but the youngest, most inexperienced, of the rest won't fully trust Draco at this point. You're all he's got, so you see how I don't understand why he'd make this request.'

Because I was stupid enough to think he respected me more than that.

She cleared her throat. 'It's all right, Harry,' she said, her voice shaking a little. 'It's merely a misunderstanding.'

Harry looked up from his parchments, a hopeful expression on his face. 'Really? You're certain? It would make my life tremendously easier if it were.'

'Oh, don't worry,' she said, not bothering to hide the bitterness. 'It is. I'll get it sorted.'

The relief in Harry's eyes was almost palpable. 'Oh, good. I'm really counting on you to adjust his attitude, since I really don't want to sack anyone. Especially not one as competent as him. I simply wouldn't know what to do with half a working Auror.'

Hermione had plenty ideas for what she could do with half an Auror with a bad attitude. And he'd wish he'd had more backup once she was finished with him.

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Cake and Other Curses, Chapter 9/10

2012-05-11T21:56:52Z

Cake and Other Curses, Chapter 8/10

2012-05-04T22:53:48Z

Cake and Other Curses, Chapter 7/10

2012-04-26T22:43:54Z

Title: Cake and Other Curses
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Angst, Drama, Health, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Physical Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione is far too fond of cake and all but attached to Harry at the hip. Generally, it's working out for her, but lately Draco has been annoying her to death by mocking her weight and her relationship with Harry. One day she spots some logic in his claims that she and Harry ought to be more than friends. Uncertain how to proceed, she agrees when Draco volunteers to help. This turns out to get very confusing very fast, as Hermione finds herself becoming attracted to the wrong person...
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and dollfaced for the beta and handiangel for the Britpick. You guys are brilliant. :)
Chapter Length: 5,671

* * *

By Tuesday, Hermione realised she’d better set up a meeting with Malfoy, soon.

The reason was fairly simple—cake.

Every day she hid and didn’t go to the canteen for lunch, Malfoy made certain that there was cake in her office. Deliciously spongy cake. It was simply sitting there, taunting her with its presence. One time she almost managed to chuck the piece out, but... it would be such a waste. There were people starving in this world, after all.

He was a cruel, cruel man. He knew she had to eat the damn cake.

So gathering all of her righteous indignation, she sought out the offender, barging into his office like some sort of goods train.

"You can’t keep doing that!" she insisted, before he even had a chance to look up from his parchments.

He was seated in his lounger. Funny how, when she thought about it, it reminded her of a sickbed.

He shot her a confused glance. "Doing what?"

"The cake!" She knew she’d lost it but she didn’t even care. "Why do you hate me so?"

He pursed his lips, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Giving someone cake isn’t an act of hatred."

"You know how I struggle with it," she whinged.

"Then merely stop avoiding me," he quietly said. "I’m no different than before simply because you know of my condition."

She stared at him, frowning as she was working this out. "You thought I was avoiding you because of your... health issues... and sent me cake?"

He looked back down at his parchments, seemingly only half-interested in their conversation. "I knew it would be the quickest way to flush you out. You seem to think that a few ounces of extra padding on your thighs matter to anyone but you."

"But it does!"

"I can’t have this discussion with you, Granger. We’re never going to agree and it’s taxing."

She narrowed her eyes at him. They were never going to agree? That, she couldn't quite live with. Maybe it was time to educate him a bit. Without a word, she fished out her wand and made certain his door was closed and securely locked.

"Will this be the day you kill me, then?" he drily asked, watching her.

"Do I really need to show you?"

He frowned. "Show me..?"

"My body!" He stared at her and she stared back at him in defiance, but when no comments were forthcoming, she said, "Well?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, what?"

"Do you really need me to show you how... unfortunate... I look under these?" she indicated her robes.

"Ah. So that’s what you’re trying to say... I was wondering... In fact, I'm still kind of—"

"Why do you have to sabotage me? Does it amuse you to know that I hate my body?" She knew she was a bit like a broken record at this point, but she didn’t care. She was sick and tired of being ridiculed for wanting to lose weight. Yes, she knew that as a strong, modern witch, she ought to accept her own physique for what it was and have a stronger focus on being healthy within that frame. After all, a good self-esteem was the most attractive feature anyone could have.

Knowing how she should feel didn’t magically change her feelings.

Malfoy didn’t reply right away. "Potter—"

"Screw Harry! I’m tired of being loved for my brains!" Wouldn't it be nice if just once more in her lifetime someone would call her beautiful and actually mean on the outside?

He blinked. "That’s... a new one."

"I know! But I’m just so sick of hearing about how clever I am as if that's all I am. I'm a woman too! Do you have any idea how confusing it is with you constantly lying to me, making me feel like rubbish, and sending me cake to sabotage me?"

Why am I telling him this much? She knew she would be embarrassed later, but right now the anger made it hard to hold back. Maybe if she explained why some things bothered her, he’d stop doing them.

She didn't actually believe that. Yet she couldn't help pressing on.

"I never—" Malfoy began.

She cut him off again. "Don’t even try to lie to me again!"

"I never lied to you when I said I was attracted to you, and I never tried to sabotage you. Quite the opposite, I think."

"What?"

He exhaled heavily, his head falling back against the lounger as if he were completely exhausted. "I might’ve... deliberately downplayed my attraction a bit. Didn’t realise it might matter to your perception of yourself."

Hermione eyed him sceptically. It was hard to trust anything he said at this moment. "You downplayed it? Like when you said you only slept with me because it was hard to find anyone at all to sleep with?"

He frowned, looking genuinely confused. "I don’t recall ever saying that."

"It was implied."

"I wish you wouldn't always believe the worst of me. Especially when it pertains to you."

"Why wouldn't I believe the worst when you so often confirm it as the truth?"

He chose not to address that, making her even more suspicious. Instead he said, "I don't actually understand why you pay any attention at all to anything I say." He shook his head as if truly baffled that his constant disparagement had an effect on her.

Clueless git.

"Because you're the only one saying what I want to hear. And then you take it back." She sounded pathetic. She hated sounding pathetic. She hated how pathetic kept escaping her mouth and how she cared about what he thought.

She really ought to meet new people. People that weren’t bigoted, manipulative, evil sods, who could kiss a witch one second and tell her to go kiss someone else the next.

"I shouldn't be."

She shrugged. "Doesn't change things."

He looked away from her and then bit out, "What do you want me to do about it?"

Ouch. She'd kind of hoped for some reassurance, something to indicate that he wasn’t as indifferent as she’d thought. Maybe this was better. Maybe she ought to subject herself to a full dose of pure Malfoy in order to get past whatever was making her feel this lost. "Tell me the truth."

"No. The only reason you’re even doing this is because you want to boost your ego. If you want an ego boost, go find Potter."

That told her a whole lot of nothing. Even if she had asked to get an ego boost, it didn’t mean the truth would be one. Had he always been this evasive and misleading?

"Say you understand why I want to lose weight," she demanded.

He shrugged. "I understand the pressure of society's beauty standards, but I disagree with you trying to live up to them. They wouldn't suit you."

"Say you want me, then." It was pathetic. Truly pathetic. But since he wasn’t obliging her on giving her the cold, hard truth, she wanted to hear it again. Just hear it. Then she'd go.

"Didn't we already cover this?"

No, they hadn’t and they both knew it. He'd done everything he could not to answer any of her questions, and she couldn't help the feeling that it was because there was no good truth to lie to her with.

"Say you want me," she repeated.

"I don’t think you want to go down that—"

"Say it! Or admit you lied. It has to be one of those things, Malfoy."

He sighed, once more letting his head fall back with weariness. "Of course I want you."

"If you’re going to choose that option, at least say it like you mean it."

He looked at her for far too long before answering, making her nervous about what he was thinking. Why was she even doing this to herself? Maybe getting over her confusion wasn’t worth the inevitable blows to her already weak self-esteem. When he did reply, he didn't break eye contact. "Ask anyone with eyes whether I mean it, Granger. You're probably the only one left who hasn't noticed. I don’t think you appreciate how hard it is never to act on an attraction this strong."

"You did act on it." Although he’d made it fairly clear at the time that he’d simply used her, but those were details, right?

"How could any mortal man resist you that night?"

"So it was the robes." It was really too bad she couldn’t keep them now. She’d finally found a legitimate use for them. Whenever she needed to feel like she was more than a brain on legs, she could put them on and be wanted beyond reason by the most unlikely of men. True, it hadn't thrilled her that night when it had made Draco use her and Ron lose his head, but maybe that was the only way she could get that feeling she craved so much.

Then again, maybe it would be better if that never happened again. The dismissal afterwards had been almost more than she could handle.

"It was you looking more beautiful than any witch has any right to," he quietly said. "I succumbed. I thought downplaying it would make it easier for you to disregard what happened."

Easier? Easier? Bollocks. He couldn’t honestly believe that. She certainly couldn't. "Do you have any idea how confusing it's been?" Not to mention hurtful. In fact, she really shouldn’t mention how hurtful it had been.

"Why would you even care if I want you or not? It's not me you need to focus on."

"I just want to be wanted," she said, taking a few steps towards him. "Is that really so awful?"

"Have this conversation with Potter."

"No."

Slowly an expression of understanding that she didn't like spread across his features. "Ah. I see."

He clearly didn’t. "What do you see?"

"It's the thrill, isn't it? You don't get the same new, exciting sexual thrill from him because you know him too well, and you feel like you're missing out on it."

She cocked her head, marvelling at his talent for thinking up explanations that involved Harry. "And if that's it?"

"The thrill always eventually dies, Chubs. Don't throw away a good thing for something as fleeting as sex."

"Don't call me Chubs."

"But I like calling you Chubs."

She shook her head. "Don't tell me you want me and then insult me. You can't do that."

"It's not meant as an insult. It's... silly."

"It's not silly. It’s insulting. Patronising." And hurtful.

She really needed to work on not letting Malfoy hurt her.

"It is silly. I want you. Potter wants you. As far as I can tell from that picture in the newspaper, Weasley still wants you as well. There are probably others that you never even noticed because you were too busy thinking they couldn't possibly ever look at you."

"Prove that I’m wanted." The words just sort of slipped out before she could stop them. Immediately, she wished they hadn’t. They were far too vulnerable.

"I can never win," he whispered. "Come here." He reached a hand out towards her.

At first she was confused as to why he didn’t even get out of the chair, but then she remembered the obvious and noticed the shadows under his eyes. He was having one of his fatigued days. What was she doing, badgering him to prove something so stupid to her when he was in such a poor condition? She really ought to snap out of it.

He let his hand drop. "You’d forgotten, hadn’t you?"

Yes, she had, but only for a minute. She shook her head. "I didn’t mean to..."

"It’s fine. Just leave." He looked away again.

She stared at him, flabbergasted. Why was he suddenly so dismissive? Did he really think she was shallow enough to not want him because of his physical condition? "What?"

"I gave you your ego boost. You don't have to follow through." He didn't as much as look in her direction whilst saying this. Instead he pretended to return to his work, but she could see he wasn't really reading his parchments. He merely stared stiffly at one specific spot.

"But I don't want to put you in a coma again..." Wasn't that what he'd said had happened last time? He'd said he'd strained himself so much he'd had to drug himself, for crying out loud!

He shook his head. "No need to make excuses, Chubs. You forgot. Sometimes even I forget. I appreciate the honesty."

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and defensive. "What was it you said? 'I can never win'? Seems I can't either. Why not simply say no if you're not feeling well?"

"You asked me to prove that I wanted you."

She felt rotten for selfishly trying to pressure him into something he might not want to do simply so she could feel better. "You should've reminded me that you can't always cater to my whims."

"Why would I do that?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending, as she tried to make sense of his question.

He finally looked at her, his eyes bleak but his mouth twitching with dark humour. "I'll cater to your whims whenever you ask me to. You know that. You've known it since that night. That's why you're here."

If he thought he was telling the truth, that certainly didn't help her feeling of guilt. She hugged herself more closely and looked down. "You make me sound horrible."

"Then forgive me. I didn't mean to do that. I want to cater to your whims, as I think I've proven adequately, so why wouldn't you come to me? Besides, I may be a little tired, but I definitely could... cater... to you today. Done right, I doubt I'd even need potions after."

"Then what did you mean with I can never win?"

"I don’t like feeling exposed. It's never wise to let a witch know she can lead you around by the cock—especially not when she's involved with someone you loathe."

"Do you feel like I'm doing that? Leading you around by your... cock?" She crinkled her brow. It sounded so crude put like that. Crude and exploitative. Did he really see her like that? Was it because he thought she was with Harry or something more deeply rooted?

"Probably not on purpose."

"Oh." Suddenly she felt like she should leave. She’d come in here pushing for validation, but she’d never thought he’d actually feel forced to give it. In a way, she’d truly believed he’d reject her. Actually she’d hoped he would, so she could get all of this nonsense out of her head. Instead he sounded like he felt cornered into agreeing to something he didn’t really want.

The embarrassment she’d failed to feel before was finally rearing its ugly head with a vengeance.

"Yes... maybe I could use that pity shag after all," he muttered.

Hermione couldn't help but snort a laugh at his dry tone, but then she looked up and caught his eyes. The sheer need in them took her breath away and stifled her laugh. He wasn't joking. She could see the question right there in his gaze. "You're confusing me again," she whispered.

"I'm sorry. I confuse myself a little. It really would be best if you simply left." He didn't sound like he meant it.

"I should get back to work," she said.

"Yes... you probably should." But he didn't stop looking at her that way and it was causing a whole swarm of butterflies to flutter around in her belly.

The way she reacted to him honestly made no sense to her. She should avoid him like the plague. The way he kept changing his mind and talking out of both corners of his mouth was toxic to her emotional health.

She seemed to have a choice right now. Turn around and walk out the door or... what? Kiss him? Kissing seemed like such an intimate act. And maybe he didn't really want it. Maybe he simply felt compelled by her neediness. Maybe he'd even change his mind again. She nervously gnawed at her lower lip trying to make up her mind.

"I won't," he whispered.

"Won't what?" she asked.

"Turn you down."

"How did you—?"

"You're fairly transparent at times, Chubs. You looked so distressed, verging on unhappy. That's how you usually look when your insecurities get the better of you."

He knew exactly how she looked when she was insecure? That sealed it. She didn't use to have enough insecurities for a look, let alone a look that anyone would recognise. She needed to regain her courage—be the Hermione she once was.

She needed to do something outrageous and simply deal with whatever the consequences were to prove to herself that she still could.

With hands that only shook a little, she grabbed her robes and pulled them off.

"Whoa!" he said, sitting up straighter. "That’s... to the point."

She shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that she was showing off some fairly unflattering stretch marks along with everything else. If he wanted it, he got it, damn it! If he didn’t... well, no reason to go there before she had to, but she decided to believe it would all be for the better either way. It was the only way she could do this.

"Easier to do this without robes," she said, straddling his legs, careful to put the weight on her knees on either side of him, rather than on him. This chair of his was fortunately big enough for this not to be a problem at all.

"Your weight won't hurt me," he said, again reading her mind. Or, possibly, her transparent actions.

"Better safe than sorry," she muttered.

"No." He grabbed her legs and pulled at them, making her lose balance so she sat down heavily in his lap. "I'm not made of porcelain, Granger. I won't break. I don't like being treated like I should be in a protective bubble."

"Maybe if you'd tell me exactly what would cause you pain rather than lie and avoid the subject," she shot back.

"I'm not as bad off as you seem to think. I've managed to hide it from you for months, haven't I?"

"By lying and making yourself look lazy by hardly ever showing yourself, yes!"

"I am lazy. And I'm fine as long as I don't have to do acrobatics."

"Regular missionary position sex is hardly acrobatics, yet you had to go into a self-induced coma after!"

He sighed and leaned his forehead against her shoulder for but a moment, making her shiver as his warm breath brushed her neck. "I shouldn't have said that." He looked up at her. "I'd been on my feet all day, Chubs. I was running around town to get things done. I knew I shouldn’t have made it seem like it was only the sex as soon as I’d said it, but I didn’t know how else to convince you that I wasn’t about to pressure you to make it a regular thing..."

She arched an eyebrow. There were so many things wrong with this whole statement, and also... "Running around town? You couldn’t Apparate to spare yourself?"

He pursed his lips. "Do we really need to talk so much right now? Weren't we going to do something a little more... fun?"

"No. Tell me."

He arched an eyebrow right back at her and gave her underwear-clad form a lingering look. "No?"

"No. Maybe later." Right now she felt remarkably unbothered by her lack of clothing. She liked that. It made her feel... free.

He gave her bare thighs a light squeeze that reminded her of her rather absurd position, but it didn't put a dent in how comfortable she was. "All right, then," he conceded. "No, I can neither use the Floo network nor Apparate. It usually makes me vomit when I do, and the Healers don't like it when I do things that make it harder for me to keep down food. I tend to agree with them on that one. The only times I Apparate is when they send someone from St Mungo's to take me along. So... yes, I walked a lot that day."

She shook her head. Of course. That explained a lot. "To get the formal robes and the necklace."

"Among other things, yes."

"And you refuse to use a cane."

"In public, yes."

"Remind me again why your condition has to be such a big secret?"

"Because it's nobody's business." The stubborn set of his jaw invited no argument.

"Fair enough," she easily agreed.

He made a sarcastic sound. "You don't really think so."

She shook her head. "No, I actually do. Your health, your business."

"Thank you."

"But of course I still need all the details," she couldn't help but point out. She felt like her current position at least should give her some bargaining power.

"Of course." His eyes glinted with something akin to amusement.

"At least if you want me to ride you silly."

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, swallowing. "What more do you want to know?" he then asked in a hoarse voice.

She hid a delighted grin at his reaction and grabbed the opportunity to quiz him. "Are you really recovering?"

He hesitated. She didn't like that at all.

"Draco?"

"Mostly, yes," he hedged. "There have been a few setbacks, but aren't there always?"

"Don't use the truth to lie to me."

He shrugged but didn’t look her in the eye. "The truth is, I'm not certain. I mean, up until recently it seemed like it was all moving forward, but... basically, nobody knows."

"What happened recently?"

"It's not important." He began massaging her thighs and it was mildly distracting but nice, as she was beginning to get a little chilled and his hands were warm.

"Good. Then you'll have no problems telling me," she persevered.

"It'll completely kill the mood... We don't want that, do we?" he muttered, gazing out at her from under heavy eyelids.

She wasn't going to fall for that attempt at manipulation. Not even if his hands were moving up her hips, bringing delicious electricity with them.

"Either you tell me or—"

"Or what?"

"I'll leave." It was a weak threat, considering she'd been the one to initiate this, but it was all she had.

The brief flash of annoyance in his eyes and the way his fingers flexed around her waist told her that he was exactly as aware of this as she was. "For fuck's sake, Granger!"

"Why is it you don't want me to know this?"

"You'll make a fuss."

"Then there's something to make a fuss about!"

He was now massaging her lower back and it was really hard to keep eye contact and not give in to how nice it felt. She had to fight back a purr.

"I'm fine now," he murmured, attempting his wiles again. "No need for a fuss. Promise."

"Draco..." She wished that hadn't come out as part groan.

His hands stopped massaging her and he merely watched her quietly for a few seconds. Finally he said, "My heart stopped."

That shocked her out of the trance his hands had been putting her in and it felt like he'd shot a cold clammy hand into her chest and was squeezing hard. She had to concentrate hard on breathing to get the oxygen she needed. "What?"

"It wasn't for long. I was already at St Mungo's for tests."

"But what if you hadn't been? When was this?"

He sighed. "I knew you'd make a fuss. They gave me that—" He motioned towards a small delicate glassy ball with a swirling golden smoke inside that was presiding on the tray that was currently his makeshift desk. "—and if I feel any of the warning signs again, I'm to break it and they will immediately come and get me. I'm as safe as I can be under the circumstances."

"And when was this?"

He hesitated again, but finally reluctantly answered, "Remember when I was going for a second holiday?"

"When you made it seem like you were merely extraordinarily lazy?" She punched his chest, because she couldn't keep the frustration in. "When you merely sat there and had cake before going again? Yes, damn you, I remember."

He grabbed her hand and coaxed it to open so he could entwine his fingers with hers. "Going back was only a precaution because I suddenly had some chest pains again after coming in to work. But it turned out to be nothing. I've been fine since, really."

"Stop lying to me," she whispered.

"I'm not..." He used his free hand to push back a lock of her hair. "I swear it's the truth. Some days I'm even better than fine."

"What days?"

The corner of his mouth drew up into a half-smile. "Days when gorgeous witches come into my office and drop their robes and promise to ride me silly come to mind."

"That happens a lot, huh?"

His half-smile turned into a full grin. "I can't complain."

"So maybe I should leave before one of them gets here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you do that? I can't think of a single more gorgeous witch."

He was all flattery now to please her, wasn't he? She couldn’t deny it was working. She bent forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and very slowly and carefully placed her lips against the very corner of his mouth that seemed to always want to draw up at her expense. He stilled but didn’t draw back. Not exactly encouraged but not discouraged either, she gently brushed her lips against his. Feeling a grin spread under her lips, she drew back to give him a puzzled look.

"You taste sweet," he said with a slightly teasing quality to his voice.

Sweet. The cake. Immediately embarrassed, she jerked back, but he was quick to grab the back of her head and kiss her, much more thoroughly than before, his lips coaxing hers apart.

She liked the way he kissed her. He kissed her like she was still the thin, active teenager who could kick dark wizard bum and be asked out by famous Quidditch players. He kissed her like he didn't see any stretch marks or cellulite anywhere on her body. He kissed her like she was the sexiest witch alive.

And it wasn't merely the lips-on-lips part of the kiss.

It was the way his one hand held her head in place, preventing her from bolting, whilst his other hand slid back up her thigh to her waist, where he curled his hand around her side and drew her closer, into his warmth. It felt protective. Possessive. Like he didn't want to let go. And she could definitely feel the effect this kiss already had on him from where she was sitting.

She told herself that the warmth that rushed through her was simply from feeling wanted. Physically. Nothing else.

"Problem..." he murmured against her lips. "If you really want more than kissing, my robes are in the way."

It was true. She'd have to get off him and he'd have to get up to get rid of his robes. At least if they used the conventional way. She drew back her head and narrowed her eyes at the robes. They were a rather fanciful kind with buttons all the way down the front.

"Would be quicker if I got up," he said, doing that annoying thing again where he guessed her thoughts.

She pursed her lips in amusement. "I don't think it's ever good to assume that quicker is better when it comes to sex," she couldn’t help but say.

Then she set out to open his robes, one button at a time. And with each reveal of skin, she had to explore a bit with her fingers, lips and tongue against his smooth, warm skin.

By the time she reached his stomach, he was trembling, but otherwise neither moving nor saying anything. She'd have preferred it if he'd once more told her pretty things, but she supposed the trembling spoke volumes on its own.

He wanted her and that was all she needed. That was the reason she was here; he’d been right about that.

She kissed the warm, taut skin of his belly and let her fingers run up and down his ribs, delving in at the far too pronounced intercostal gaps. "You really do need more cake," she murmured, feeling her lips vibrate against his skin.

He laughed. It was a rather choked sound. "I'd love to have more cake but sweets make me nauseous."

She looked up. "Really?"

He made a small nod. "I have a long list of foods that I can't currently handle, but it used to be longer. Believe it or not, I even used to be thinner."

"Hmm." She opened a few more buttons whilst considering that, moving down his frame to accommodate her endeavour. She couldn't even begin to fathom how badly off Malfoy had been, but at least he really did seem to be getting better. That was good. She didn't want to consider the implications of anything else.

"Hey!" he muttered, smoothing her hair back from her face. "If you're going to think about my body right now, I'd prefer those thoughts to be a little less serious and a little more fun."

"Sorry," she replied, realising she was running out of buttons. What next? She bit her lip, considering. "Underwear off!" she then demanded.

He grinned. "I'd love to, but there's this witch on me..." he said. She obliged his complaint by standing up and he groaned. "I didn't mean it like that! Come back!"

"Underwear first. And shoes and socks too, just for good measure."

He obliged her and pushed down his underwear with one swift motion, kicking it the rest of the way off. Shoes and socks went off without him even using his hands. Talk about perfecting the art of not getting up. "Now get back here, pretty witch," he said.

She looked him over, biting her lip again. Skinny or not, she liked looking at his body. Especially one thing stood out, so to speak.

He held out his hand to her, but she ignored it, kneeling down next to his thigh. Oh, yes. Even upon closer inspection, everything looked... appetising.

"The floor is cold, Granger..."

It actually was a bit chilly, but not cold enough for Hermione to let it interfere with her immediate plans. Ignoring his weak objections, she grabbed his shaft and lowered her head, taking a lot of pleasure in how his entire body stiffened and he hissed when her lips touched his glans.

She'd figured he might like that.

Besides, it felt nice to feel like she could draw out and control his need. She opened up her mouth to take him in and she felt more than saw him letting his head fall back on a sigh. She began massaging him with her hand and mouth, giving in to the sheer feel of the situation. The coolness and the hardness of the floor didn't matter. All that mattered was that she had the power to make him squirm, the power to make him lose control.

The power to make him want her so much he couldn't hold back.

It actually didn't take that long for him to begin to lose control. His breath became erratic and he quite suddenly sat up, attempting to stop her.

She wasn't about to leave this unfinished, though.

"Enough, Granger. Enngh... I..." His breath caught before he soldiered on through gritted teeth. "I have no stamina for this. Feels too good. Been too long."

She chuckled around him. Yeah, she could feel that. She could also feel the way he was suddenly gasping and grabbing on to her shoulder and neck, urging her on.

He'd reached the point of no return. She could feel it in the way his fingers dug in and the way he couldn’t help but thrust against her.

She didn't mind. As long as she kept her hand in place he wasn't going to hurt her even if he completely lost it. She felt him stiffening, tensing, and then he made a desperate sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a growl as the warm, tangy liquid hit the back of her mouth.

She kept massaging him until he relaxed, and then she casually reached for her wand to clean up a bit. Since she hadn't exactly brought a toothbrush, spells would have to do.

"Damn it, Granger..." he said, sounding drained. "Why didn't you let me stop you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to tell me that you didn't enjoy that?"

"It's going to be hard for me to reciprocate that here. I don't kneel well and when it comes to second rounds, I'm afraid I take a little longer than your average wizard to get ready for those these days."

"Who talked about reciprocation?"

He looked over her underwear-clad form as if to say, Then why get undressed? and said, "Come spend the night with me tonight. After work. Don’t go home, come straight to me. I’ll make it worth your while."

Spend the night? With Draco? In his bed?

It was tempting, very tempting. She could simply go home with him and he’d do everything she’d been wanting him to do to her. She knew without a doubt that he would. But then, what would happen after? Would he kick her out? Dismiss her like he had last time?

Would it still be worth it?

When she realised she was actually considering it, Hermione knew she was in deep trouble.

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Cake and Other Curses, Chapter 6/10

2012-04-18T23:54:10Z

The Virgin Conundrum 10/10

2012-04-17T23:59:47Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,950

* * *

Ways to get over a stupid misplaced infatuation.

Hermione stared at her new list.

So far it only had one option.

Drink poison.

Not that she would ever do anything that drastic, but right now it was her frustration talking. She kept seeing him flirting and it made her want to scream and kick someone. Preferably him. She didn't want to feel this way. She'd never asked for any of this stupid emotional baggage. She'd attempted to lecture herself on how sex wasn't love and it was perfectly all right to enjoy sex without feeling you had to make it mean more, but nothing worked.

She added another item to the list.

Make him drink poison.

Yes, that was far more feasible. She'd be rid of him and able to move on with her life. Brilliant!

She sighed. If only she could.

"What are you doing?"

She jolted at the sound of the voice and immediately attempted to cover up her list with her arms. "M-Malfoy? How's that any of your business?"

"Don't make me take this from you as well."

"Have you ever heard of personal boundaries?"

"No."

He pushed away her arms, revealing her pathetic plans. "Ah. Weasley again, I see. I do like the idea of making him drink poison. I could even help if you'd like."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?"

"You only come within ten feet of me if you want something, so spit it out."

He nodded. "Right. There is something. Remember that potion you stole?"

"Shh!" She glanced around. "Keep your voice down!"

"Yeah, that's the thing. I was the only one supposed to be there that day, so Slughorn thinks I did it. He put me in detention for two weeks."

"You didn't tell him it was me?"

"No. But I hoped you could do something to get me out of detention or at least make it worth my while."

Worth his while? She knew what he didn't mean by that, so it was probably something a bit more material. "I'm sorry, I don't have any money."

He snorted. "Yeah, money is what I need."

"I can try to talk to him or see if I can persuade him that I have some use for you during your detention time."

"That would be nice."

"But what do you want from me if I fail? Do you want me to confess to him?"

"No. But at the very least I want you to help me with my Muggle Studies essay on aeroplanes. In fact, I think I want that even if you can get me out of detention."

She'd really rather not. And she'd certainly not bring him to her room this time. But she supposed it would be a small price to pay. "All right. Meet me here tomorrow after school."

He nodded and left and she sighed. Tomorrow would be a very long day.

* * *

"Draco..."

Draco stopped up a few stacks away from Hermione as he heard his name softly spoken to his right and looked over to see Pansy standing there with a suspicious look on her face.

Oh, lovely.

"Pansy, hey. You use the library too, huh?"

"Not as much as you, apparently."

"You have a problem with me approaching Granger." It was a mere statement of fact.

"Why do you need to do that?"

"I thought you'd have eavesdropped."

"Yeah, I heard. She got you in trouble. So what? Turn her in!"

"Her help is what might help me get my NEWTs and stay out of Azkaban. I really can't bother about your petty grievances when my own future is at stake here."

"You forget something, love."

"What?"

"I know now."

"Know what?"

"How thick do you think I am? You're covering for Granger stealing a potion. Your mystery girl stole a potion. What are the odds?"

He immediately felt chilled to the bone. He'd forgotten about that.

"So... what are you going to do about it?" he quietly asked.

"What exactly can I do?"

"Cut your losses?"

"Don't be stupid, Draco. But why her? I don't understand it. I thought you hated her as much as I do!"

"I... don't know, Pansy. It's not like I can help it. She's kinder than you think, though. She hasn't turned down helping me with anything yet."

"But she doesn't want you."

"That has nothing to do with kindness."

"But she doesn't want you."

He clenched his jaw and his fists, fighting back the urge to yell at Pansy. "What do you want from me?" he hissed. "I know she doesn't want me. I know you hate her. I know my family would object. I know every single thing about this is as stupid as can be."

Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the library.

* * *

"Oh, look. I thought you'd be out getting drunk or snogging fifth years. Looks like you still have time to study, huh?"

Hermione cringed. Not only did she have to deal with Draco today, she also had to deal with his dreadful ex-girlfriend? She supposed that was the price of being Head Girl.

"Some of us can do more than one thing without getting confused," she said as sweetly as she possibly could. "Can I help you with anything?"

Pansy regarded her with a very distasteful look on her face. "This is difficult."

"Take your time," Hermione said, absent-mindedly doodling whilst waiting for Pansy to think up some more abuse.

"I'm not certain time will help. Look, I..." She sighed, sounding really irritable. "I don't want to be nice to you, but I'd like some answers without you going on the defensive, all right?"

Normally Hermione would make some kind of scathing response, but she was too drained for that right now. "Answers about what?"

"Draco."

"Last I heard, you left him for someone else, so I don't see how he's any of your business."

"We're friends. You do know how that works, right?"

"Still doesn't give you any right to butt in."

"And I won't if I can't see any reason to. But first, what happened between you?"

Hermione put down her quill. "What I imagine happens between Draco and a lot of witches."

"No, that would be nothing."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I see you haven't paid any attention to the rumours."

Pansy laughed. "I know the rumours. I started them. I also know Draco. He's a cautious wizard when it comes to intimacy, even the physical kind. I usually pretend I believe the rumours, but I think we both know better."

"I think that has changed," Hermione muttered, examining her nails.

"Then you're not thinking hard enough."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, excuse you. What happened between the two of you?"

"It's personal."

"All right. Did you really end it to be with your cheating ex?"

Hermione gaped. Pansy certainly didn't hold anything back. "He told you that?"

"I'm asking the questions here."

"No, now I am!" Hermione said a little too loudly, and suddenly Madam Pince materialised next to her. Her face was still pinched from her illness, but that didn't prevent her from glaring at Hermione and looking scrunched.

Hermione ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Madam Pince," she said before the librarian could scold her. "I became too excited about my turn with the book."

That didn't seem to appease Pince. "I don't see why I have to tolerate your filthy little hands on all my books," she hissed. "Keep quiet or leave!" Then she vanished again.

Hermione shuddered. She'd liked it much better when Pince hadn't been around.

Pansy drew out a chair next to Hermione and moved it closer, before she continued in a low voice as if there hadn't been any interruptions. "He didn't tell me it was you, obviously. I figured that out for myself." She waved it off as insignificant.

"How?"

"Eavesdropping on you. Now answer my question."

"No! I mean, that was the plan, I suppose, but..." She shrugged.

"But what?"

"Why do you need all these details?"

"Because Draco is stupider than dirt. I can't count on him to figure anything out on his own."

Hermione couldn't help the snort.

"So what happened?" Pansy pushed.

Hermione shrugged again. This was embarrassing. "He said... he wanted to be with other girls now."

Pansy gaped.

Hermione continued, "And that it was time for me to get back together with Ron. And there was no point in... doing it again..." She fought the lump in her throat. The last thing she needed was to begin bawling in front of Pansy bloody Parkinson. "That's fine, though," she said with a shrug. "It was the deal. No promises were broken. We both got what we wanted."

Some of it, anyway.

"The thing you need to know about Draco..." Pansy finally said, "is that he's very defensive. He doesn't like to leave any opening for others to hurt him. He doesn't really have any friends, and he refuses to see most witches as people that could be interesting on more than a physical level. He's a lonely boy, but he thinks he prefers it that way. He doesn't realise that the pain is the price we pay for the joys and that it's usually worth it."

It took a while for Hermione to get over how deep Pansy was sounding and stop staring long enough to ask, "What does that have to do with me?"

"You said you had a deal. He probably said those things to you so you wouldn't say them first. If he rejected you, you couldn't reject him."

Hermione scowled. "You hate me. You're setting me up to be humiliated, aren't you?"

Pansy shook her head, looking regretful. "I do hate you and would love to humiliate you, but this isn't about me or you right now. This is about him. If you look, I'm certain you can see that he was lying. And this is about as nice as I can be to you without vomiting, so if you'll excuse me..." She turned around and left.

Hermione pursed her lips, staring at Pansy's receding back. That had been surreal.

* * *

Draco dragged his feet the last few steps towards Hermione's door. He didn't know why she'd asked him to come here. Originally, she'd said the library after school, but then she'd sent him a note, saying something had come up and to meet her up here after dinner instead.

He'd really have preferred the library.

Didn't she realise that they'd had sex in the bed in this very room?

He supposed she did. She had to sleep in that bed every night. Not that it was likely to bother her.

Reluctantly, he lifted his hand and knocked, startling when the door almost immediately swung open.

"There you are!" Hermione said, looking far too cheerful. "Well, come on in!"

He did as told and shot her a wary glance. "Like last time? I mean, last time I wrote an essay. I mean before the... um, should I sit at the desk?"

She shrugged and trotted over to the bed, swooping up a cat in her path. "So, aeroplanes, huh?"

"Yeah..." he sat down and took out parchments. "Although I don't understand how they float such a big thing without magic. It must get awfully heavy with all that metal and all those people inside."

"Science, Draco. Physics. Every time you think 'I wonder how they do that without magic?' that's probably the answer."

He nodded. He was at least beginning to understand that much. "So... why did you have to reschedule?"

"Something came up."

"You said that. What came up?"

"If you must know, I was visiting with Professor Slughorn, trying to get you out of detention."

He perked up. "Yeah? Did it work?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh. Well. At least you tried."

"I said that wrong. You don't have to do the detention with him, but he still insisted on assigning certain tasks that you could then do with me instead. During which time he felt that we could also do any extra tasks I might have for you."

"Ah." That would be hell.

"Seeing as how I landed you in that detention, I'll simply do the work and he'll be none the wiser."

He glanced at her. She'd sat down in the middle of her bed, her back against the headboard and the cat on her lap. "So..." he hesitantly began, "I don't have to do anything?"

"No. I'll tell you what you 'did' each day and it should be fine in case he asks you about it."

"Then you did get me out!"

"I suppose."

"That has to be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!"

She snorted. "Don't forget that Pansy spread the sex god rumour about you."

"You're right. It's probably a toss-up between the two of you."

Her lips twitched. "What any girl wants to hear. Now, let's get back to that essay of yours..."

Getting homework help from Hermione in her room really wasn't that bad, Draco decided after a while of her obediently answering his questions and explaining the uses of aeroplanes to the best of her abilities. The only time it became awkward for him was when she leaned over him to check his book. She was too close. He could smell her hair. If he turned his head, he could kiss her neck.

He wondered how she'd react to that. Would she jump away and yell at him or turn her head against him and smile, allowing him to kiss her lips and drag her into his lap to hold her close whilst he deepened the kiss and...

"Draco? Draco!"

"Hm?" He blinked and looked up at Hermione, who was staring at him rather bemusedly. "What?"

"Are you tired? You were completely gone for a second there."

"Uh, yeah... I guess..." Maybe he was a little tired. Or maybe he had a hard time not reaching out for her.

"We can stop now if you like."

"No, I'd really like to finish this."

"We can finish it tomorrow. You can come by when I'm doing detention work and we can continue talking there."

In the Potions classroom. A safe place. A place that wouldn't have beds or leaning or memories. "All right!"

"See you tomorrow, then," she said with a smile.

It didn't occur to him until he was out in the corridor what had been so off about this. Her good mood. He hadn't seen her in such a good mood since that night they'd spent together. Even the morning after she'd seemed kind of subdued, probably already regretting everything. And then she'd been struggling with her relationship. But today... today she'd been almost... happy?

His heart sank as he realised what that probably meant. She'd most likely patched things up with Weasley.

He sighed. Good thing he hadn't actually kissed her, then.

* * *

Hermione gave herself one last once-over before she went for her detention work in the dungeons. Pansy had better be right about Draco or she would kill her, and not in a quick and painless way. Oh, no. She had researched poisons! There would be pain and lots of it!

Yet she'd thought he'd responded a bit the day before when she'd done her best to be relaxed and approachable around him. So maybe Pansy wasn't merely out to cause misery.

Or maybe Pansy was better at causing misery than Hermione gave her credit for.

Today, Hermione planned to find out what was what for certain.

Amazingly enough, Draco had for once shown up on time for their meeting and was already seated at one of the tables in the front of the class, reading. He looked up and then stared when he saw her.

"You don't mind, do you?" she said, walking up to the front of the classroom. "Today was actually fairly balmy."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine... It's simply... been a while since you wore a skirt, hasn't it?"

She pursed her lips. Not since last time she wanted to provoke a physical response out of him, no. She'd also chosen a button-down shirt, just to have more options. "Not that long, really. But it feels like a long time, I'll give you that."

"A lot has happened," he muttered, giving her an indecipherable look.

She began climbing a ladder. "Just ask me your questions whenever you're ready," she said, going for the highest shelf.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

"My work."

"What?"

"I'm supposed to sort and clean these jars." She pointed to the top row of dusty glass jars.

"Oh."

She took out her wand and summoned the soapy water she'd prepared earlier, thanking Merlin for the magic to keep it heated so she didn't have to keep running off for more. And then she began cleaning the top shelf and jars. Occasionally, she had to get up on the tips of her toes to reach the back, but it wasn't too difficult to reach.

Draco was being completely quiet. A few glances told her he was staring at her, but right now she needed to get this task done so she could turn her mind back to more important matters. Like whether Draco still found her legs sexy.

She hadn't really thought about how the workout would make her sweat or how dusty it'd be here, though.

Oh, well. She'd have to clean up as best she could afterwards and leave further testing of Draco's potential attraction to her for another time.

There was only one small jar left in the back, when she reached up and almost lost her balance. It was not as bad as the last time she'd lost her balance on a ladder, though, and she quickly regained her footing, stretching once more to reach.

"Get down from there, Hermione."

She looked down, actually puzzled by his demand. He sounded almost angry. "Why?"

"You know that heights scare you and you risk hurting yourself if you panic."

She snorted at him. "Please. I may not be very comfortable with heights but I've flown a Thestral. A Thestral. Do you know what that's like, even for those who aren't afraid of heights? You fly on nothing you can see, high above everything... If I could do that, I can dust jars."

"That's not what you said at the library that time."

"That ladder was wobbly. I only asked you to hold it."

"Need me to hold this one?"

She sighed. "Look, either look up my skirt or do your essay, but for pity's sake stop fretting over me climbing a stupid ladder."

"If you want me to stop fretting then get down!"

She shot him an exasperated look and climbed down, but only because she was done anyway. When she was on the floor, she wiped her brow and began unbuttoning her shirt.

He immediately looked alarmed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm hot, Draco. And I probably look a fright to boot." She could only imagine what the dust did to her face. "I should probably go freshen up."

"No... You look fine, really." He looked away.

She gave him a long look and then shrugged, going closer to him. "So, what else do you need for this essay of yours?" She leaned in to squint at what he'd already written.

"Um... Muggles don't have anything like... Portkeys, do they?"

"No. That's usually when they use aeroplanes. Or cars. Or ships."

"Or... ships..." he muttered, writing everything down.

She leaned in a little closer, feeling her breasts rub against his arm. He froze. She wondered if she was invading his personal space and making him uncomfortable or if he was having a more positive reaction to her, dust and all.

"Hermione," he said, his voice strained. "Do you... need to stand so close?"

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Quite frankly, it's making me confused."

"Of course it is. Tell me, Draco, did you enjoy looking at my legs?"

He flushed—something she hadn't seen in ages. "You could've worn trousers. You knew you were going to climb ladders today."

"But I told you. I enjoy showing off skin around you."

This didn't seem to help his confusion. "Why? Is it a confidence thing? Do you need reassurance that you're still sexy? You could've simply asked. I would've told you that you are."

"It's hard to ask you if I'm sexy when you're avoiding me and would rather be with anyone else."

His flush deepened. "Why are you doing this? We had a one-off and now you're obviously with Weasley, so what—"

She sighed, sitting down on the table next to him, showing off her legs whilst doing so. "Oh, don't be stupid, Draco. You know I broke it off with him."

"But you were so depressed about him and then—"

"Do I really need to spell it out?"

"Yes, please. Because I don't understand anything right now."

"Fine. You and I slept together."

"I'm with you so far."

"Then I woke up to you sneaking out and telling me that you'd rather shag other witches than me."

He flinched. "I'm certain that's not quite how—"

"Shut up. That's how it went."

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Then I wrote Ron—"

"Now I'm following again."

"—to tell him not to wait for me, because I'd rather be friends with him than lovers."

"What?" He looked positively stunned.

"And meanwhile you were avoiding me whilst flirting with any other girl who would look at you. You know, being true to what you'd said."

"Again, that's not quite how—"

"I told you to shut up!" she interrupted him.

"Yes, Madam Granger."

She ignored his cheekiness. "Then I stole the potion."

"And lied to me about your Weasley cheating again, obviously," he interjected.

"What was I supposed to say?"

"If you regretted breaking up with him so much, then why didn't you talk to him and work it out?"

She sighed. "You're still not getting it. Next, you caught me making a fantasy list at the library."

"I liked that list."

"And Pansy Parkinson overheard us talking when you told me about your detention."

He stared at her. "How did you know that? Did she say something?"

"She said quite a lot, actually."

He groaned. "I'm so, so sorry. Please believe that I didn't know she'd actually confront you about something that wasn't any of her business. I should've known better."

"I'm kind of glad she did, actually."

"Excuse me?"

"She told me you were stupider than dirt, and I'm likely to agree."

"That's... comforting."

"Are you still following?" she asked.

"No, not at all."

She sighed. She really had to do this the embarrassing way, didn't she? She slipped down on the bench next to him. "I didn't take the hate potion because of Ron."

He stared at her. "You didn't?"

"No."

"Then..." He seemed to have a hard time processing this.

"Yeah."

"No." He shook his head.

"No?"

"I mean... no." He shook his head again.

"Oh." A heavy feeling was beginning to develop in the pit of her stomach.

"No! I'm just... me?"

She stared at him. "Try speaking in whole sentences instead. Maybe I'll have a better chance of figuring out what you're trying to say."

"I'm afraid I don't... I mean, I don't think I understand," he stammered.

"Really? Still?"

"Stupider than dirt, remember?"

She put her hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. He didn't draw back. If anything, he seemed uncertain how to respond. When she made to pull away, though, he followed. It gave her some hope and she put her arms around his neck, kissing him more firmly.

"Wait..." he muttered, breaking the kiss. "What exactly is this?"

She looked away. Couldn't he tell? But then she forced herself to raise her head and look him straight in the eyes. "I know I said I wouldn't, but I fell for you whilst I was trying to seduce you."

"You... why?"

She shook her head. Really? He had to ask her why? "I'll be damned if I know. The potion didn't work. I can still list a whole foot of flaws I see in you without any bloody potion, but it doesn't seem to matter."

It was his turn to look away. "Why are you telling me this?"

He couldn't have hurt her more if he'd punched her face at that moment. The implied rejection was almost too much to bear, but she had to see this through. "She said you were defensive. That you had problems letting anyone in. I only need to know if that's the reason you rejected me or if you were simply done with me."

"I don't think I can do this," he said, physically withdrawing from her and hurriedly beginning to pack up his things.

She should walk away. Now. "Look, it's easy, Malfoy," she heard herself say. "Or I'll make it easy. Just say yes or no. If you say no, I won't ever even hint at having feelings for you again. I promise. Just... make a choice?"

"I... can't..." He shook his head, grabbed his bag and all but ran out.

Crushed and shocked to the core even though she shouldn't be, Hermione stared after him.

He'd said no.

* * *

Draco rushed up to the old office, praying that nobody was using it and then sat down at the desk and tried to control his breathing.

He'd panicked.

He'd fucking panicked and he wasn't even certain why. All he knew was that he was shaking and not in a very good way.

What was happening here?

He was in love with her. He wanted to be with her. She'd told him that she felt the same way and rather than be happy and kiss her again, he'd run off.

Oh, God, the way she'd looked at him when he'd got up to leave. It had been so heartbreaking, but he'd been unable to explain what was happening. He didn't know.

Maybe Pansy had a point about his problems letting anyone in.

He'd been doing nothing but thinking up excuses why he couldn't try to win Hermione over for so long. It had never even occurred to him that she might want to be won over.

It certainly had never occurred to him that if she wanted to be won over, his first instinct would be to create as much distance between them as he possibly could.

He knew he'd hurt her badly just now and it made him feel rotten to the core.

She'd kissed him and told him she had feelings for him and then he'd fled the room like he was hunted by a dragon.

Reluctantly he got to his feet again. He could at least go to her room and apologise for that.

Before he could decide against it, he forced his feet in the direction of her room. It really wasn't that far from here. He would think of something to say once he got there, he hoped. Something to make her understand what he didn't even understand himself. She was smart. Far smarter than him. She'd tell him why he felt this way.

He reached the door and knocked a few times. She didn't seem inclined to answer, but he knew she had to be in there, so he kept knocking. Finally, she opened the door and stared at him with big, wounded eyes.

Something inside him squeezed together so tightly he could hardly breathe. "I'm sorry—"

The second the words were out, she slammed the door in his face.

He knocked again a few times, but she didn't open.

"Come on, Hermione," he said, his voice hoarse from all the emotions he was trying to keep in check. "I didn't mean..."

"Go away!" she shouted from the other side.

He winced. "There's no need for you to—"

She tore the door open and glared at him. "That is not for you to decide!"

"I know..." he muttered, mostly feeling like running away again. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

She sneered at him and stepped aside. "Get in here so I can yell at you without half the school hearing it."

He hesitantly entered. He deserved to be yelled at.

She slammed the door behind him and then turned to face him. "Why are you here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Why don't you have the decency to leave me alone? Even you must realise that you're the last person I want to see right now."

He nodded. "Please let me explain."

"And what's this brilliant explanation for running off like that?"

"I panicked."

She snorted. "I could tell that much."

"I didn't... I mean, I..." He began sweating. This was hard. The words wouldn't come out.

"What?"

"I... It's..."

She took a long hard look at him and then sighed and quite suddenly plonked down in her chair, looking more deflated than anything. "You're sorry. I get it. You're not obligated to have feelings for me. I didn't think you did, but then Pansy made me think I was wrong and... I'm sorry for putting you in that position. You were clearly uncomfortable with it. It's not your fault. I should've known I couldn't trust her. I did know, but..." She shrugged, looking away.

He violently shook his head. "No! Listen!"

"What?"

"Pansy was right, all right? I don't do feelings very well."

"I'm beginning to see that."

"No, I said that wrong. I don't share feelings very well. I have them, but... I prefer to keep them to myself."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"You're hardly the first person ever to have intimacy issues, Draco."

But it went a bit further than that! How could he explain it? "I never even told Pansy..."

"Told her what?"

He frowned, trying to find the words. "That I liked her. Going out with her simply sort of happened without me having to do or say anything. She accepted that I couldn't voice those feelings and never seemed to mind. I'm... actually better at it now. I mean... I told her about you, didn't I?"

He was afraid to ask exactly what Pansy had told Hermione about that.

"Why is it that hard for you?" she asked. She seemed to earnestly want to understand him.

He shrugged. "I have my theories. Does it really matter?"

"I'd like to know."

Girls and their constant need to believe there was a deeper reason for everything.

"My father always taught me that showing tender emotion is a weakness that can be exploited by others. It wasn't until after the Battle of Hogwarts that I saw him show any himself. It doesn't come natural to me."

Her lips were pressed tightly together. "I really don't like your father."

"I don't think he minds that."

She snorted. "Is that what you're afraid of? That I'll exploit you?"

"You are fairly dominating, Hermione." And he meant that in the best possible way. He loved the way she always surprised him.

She shook her head. "No... I'm goal-oriented. I don't want anyone to be the boss in any relationship I might have. That's not how it works."

"But that's what's so confusing to me. I was taught that I should be the boss in all of my relationships with people, but I clearly can't control you!"

"Nor do you want to."

"I don't?"

"Think about all those other witches you've tried to go out with who either let you take charge or ran away. I believe 'vapid' was the word you used?"

"I... maybe?" This was slightly confusing.

"I think you're tired of always taking the initiative. It might scare you to not be fully in control, but it also excites you."

He stared at her. "How old were you again?"

"Don't even go there," she warned.

He grinned. "I simply meant... that was rather insightful."

"Now the question remains... are you in love with that feeling, or are you in love with me?"

He pursed his lips. "I don't recall saying anything about being in love."

"Oh, please. You're still here. You're in love." The way she said it was like it was nothing out of the ordinary, simply another fact of the day.

He couldn't help but laugh. She was so refreshingly blunt and unashamed of herself. "Please don't hold back now."

She raised an eyebrow and got to her feet. "All right, I won't. You're in love. Either with this feeling or with me or both. I must be in love with you because I certainly am not in love with feeling like an idiot for falling for someone who doesn't want me." She went up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I hope you're in love with me or at least want me enough to eventually fall in love with me."

He touched her cheek, unable to look away from her eyes. Of course he was in love with her. He didn't have any doubts whatsoever. "I want you more than anything."

"Are you completely certain about that?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his hand. "You mentioned your father. He won't be thrilled if we start seeing each other. I don't think meeting your family would ever be an option."

"I wouldn't be the first blood traitor in the family. What my parents intend to do about that is up to them."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm old enough to live my own life."

"I thought you lived to please your father."

He sighed and looked away, dropping his hand. "Yeah... Until that meant getting the Dark Mark and having to torture and attempt to kill people or alternately watch my family die in front of my very eyes. Since then, I've been much less enthusiastic about it."

She shook her head and smiled. "You're so damaged."

"Aren't we all?"

"Certainly. Do you think you'll ever be able to say the words?"

He looked at her. He had a feeling he would very soon if she kept looking at him like that. "Would it be a problem if I couldn't?"

"I think I'd be sad if you never said it."

"Hmm..." He put his arms around her waist. "But what if I had to go to Azkaban? Would you still be there when I got out?"

She snorted a laugh but stopped when he shot her a puzzled look. "Oh, you're serious? You're not going to Azkaban."

"We don't know that yet," he had to point out. "My trial is pending and—"

"And you've had stellar reviews all year and are now seeing a Muggle-born who was prominent on the winning side of the war. You're not going anywhere."

He blinked in surprise. "When you put it like that..."

"Yeah, I know. Falling for me was the smartest thing you did all year."

"I'll say."

"So, about making you tell me anything I want to hear."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"I'll need to seduce you until you're so mad with need that you can't keep quiet, of course."

"And that will motivate me to break down, how?"

"Well..." She shot him a wicked smile. "If you actually want me to have sex with you again, you'll give in eventually."

He stared at her. "You wouldn't."

"Is that a challenge?"

Well! He'd actually planned on saying the words right now, but...

He shouldn't waste such a golden opportunity.

He couldn't wait to be seduced.

"Bring it on," he whispered before he hid a smirk and bent down to kiss her.

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 9/10

2012-04-17T23:55:28Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,150

* * *

The first thing Hermione noticed when she awoke was that she was lying on her stomach, naked, only partially covered by her duvet.

The second thing she noticed, when she moved, was that she was sore between the legs.

And the third thing she noticed was that Draco Malfoy was in her room, getting dressed.

She looked at the time. It was still very early, and it was Sunday to boot. "Why in such a hurry?" she groggily asked, startling him.

"I'm not in a hurry," he said, looking away and finishing buttoning his shirt. "I'm simply awake."

"And you were just going to leave? Like last time?"

"Didn't really see any point in waking you up."

She couldn't help but feel a little hurt about that. He preferred to make her wake up to an empty bed rather than say goodbye to her?

"Well, I'm awake now," she said, sitting up and wincing. It really hadn't felt that bad yesterday, but today it felt like she should keep to padded seats.

"You don't have to be. I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

He still didn't look at her. What was wrong? It was silly, but it almost felt like he was withdrawing from her, attempting to avoid her even though they were the only ones in the room.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

He finally reluctantly turned his gaze to her, and what she saw there gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He looked... bored. Done.

"You aren't coming back, are you?" she whispered.

"What would be the point of that?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair to give it a semblance of being under control. "We already did what we set out to do. Neither of us are virgins any longer. It's time for you to forgive your Weasley and for me to finally dive into the pool of witches we have here in this place."

"You said you were turned off by most of their vapidity."

"And as I recall, you called me a name because of that. And believe me, that will change now that I know what sex feels like. It's brilliant!"

She swallowed and nodded. They'd achieved their goal. There was nothing else to gain. Apparently, once was enough to get it out of his system, so who was she to ask him to do it again? He'd done enough.

"Please close the door properly on your way out," she said, lying down with her back to him and listening for the click that signalled that he was gone before burying her face in her pillow.

At least he'd had one point in what he'd said. She'd need to sort things out with Ron. She needed to send him an owl. Today.

* * *

Draco took his sweet time walking back to his dormitory. He didn't really need to go back to bed, because he was fairly awake right now although he probably could've easily slept another hour or two in Hermione's bed if he'd been able to allow himself to.

It had felt so very nice to simply lie there, holding her close, feeling her skin against his. It had felt too nice. He'd been jolted awake by the realisation that he seemed to be developing some rather tender feelings for her.

It was bad. It was very bad. She couldn't be more wrong for him. If anybody knew about his feelings, he'd become a social pariah based on that alone. And Hermione wouldn't even want that. She'd made it clear what she wanted—sex. Sex to get even with her boyfriend.

True, she'd enjoyed the sex and had seemed like she wouldn't mind having more of it with Draco, but... he couldn't. Not when he was already having bloody feelings for her. He needed to walk away and not look back.

He needed to ignore these feelings so they'd die.

If he was lucky, they were simply a bi-product of the sex. It had felt so good that he now felt infatuated. That could be it, right?

Except he'd just realised he'd felt it before sleeping with her without knowing it. That was why he'd felt like it had to be her.

If only he'd seen this sooner, then he might've been able to avoid feeling this down about walking away. He might've had the presence of mind not to sleep with her and he wouldn't have known what it would be like to be so intimate with her and holding her naked body pressed against his all night.

He wouldn't have the knowledge that he'd been her first and it had meant fuck-all to her. He'd been nothing but a disposable dildo. He'd even almost been replaced by that Mallory bloke.

The very thought made him nauseous.

He had the worst taste in girls. The worst.

At least he'd escaped with his dignity intact.

* * *

Dear Ron.

Hermione stared at her parchment. She'd been staring at it for hours already. How did one write a letter like this? All she seemed to be able to get right was the Dear Ron part. Pathetic.

She'd also been half-hoping that Malfoy would seek her out here at the library, but of course he wouldn't. If he changed his mind, it wouldn't be this soon. Besides, she hardly needed to be his fuck buddy that he could seek out whenever nobody else was around to soothe his itch.

It hurt to be that easily discarded, even though she knew that was what she'd claimed—and thought—she'd wanted. She couldn't blame him for not wanting more. There had never been any promises. Only lust.

It wasn't his fault that she'd felt more last night. That she'd found him so sweet and sexy that she'd briefly entertained the idea of getting to know him a little better. Seeing what other sides of him there were.

She guessed she had seen another side of him. The way he'd walked out on her had been... cold. After what had happened between them only a few hours earlier, he'd been able to look through her as if she were nobody to him. As if they hadn't shared anything worth sharing.

It was very likely that it had been one-sided. She'd heard about that several times, but never understood how such a thing could be one-sided without the person knowing that it was. Now she did.

"You asked me to come here?" Ginny's hushed voice said as she took a chair next to Hermione.

Hermione nodded, forcing her mind back to the matter at hand. "This may be a bit awkward for you, but I need to write to your brother. It's taking me all day and I could use some help."

"Oh? What are you writing him?"

Hermione hesitated. "I suppose what I want to tell him is... not to wait for me."

"Really? Are you certain about that?"

Hermione nodded, swallowing her doubts. Draco had had another point, after all. Sleeping with someone else to even out her relationship with Ron had been a really bad idea, and it didn't bode well for a future relationship that she'd felt like she had to do it. She needed to end it. She needed to let Ron go so they could both—eventually—find someone they were better suited to.

"I couldn't forgive him on my own," she whispered. "It can't be helped. But I don't know how to tell him that."

"Are you doing this because you want to be with someone else?"

"No." Well, yes. Maybe. Sort of. But it didn't actually matter.

"Then I don't see why you can't give the two of you another chance."

"Because I did something incredibly petty and that's not the kind of relationship I want. Besides... I still don't think I've forgiven him completely. I'd rather be his friend than be in such an emotionally draining relationship with him. But I don't know how to tell him that and actually make him want to still be friends."

"Oh. I can see that. Let's brainstorm then."

Sometimes Hermione felt like she really undervalued Ginny as a friend. That certainly wouldn't happen again after this.

* * *

Draco stared at Theo, who had the misfortune to be sitting in the Slytherin common room right at that moment. Draco really loathed Theo. He wasn't certain why. It might be because Theo was bonking Draco's ex. Or possibly it was merely because Theo was a very, very annoying human being who liked to make smug and far too accurate calls about others' decisions.

"What?" Theo asked after several minutes.

"I don't like you."

"I figured that when you booby-trapped my bed six months ago."

Busted. Somehow Draco couldn't care less. "Ah. You knew that was me, then?"

Theo snorted. "Who else?"

"Right." He resumed his staring.

"What?"

"I simply... really don't like you."

Theo sighed. "Are we going to do this all night?"

"That's what she said!" Draco smirked, feeling rather good about being so childish.

"Then no wonder you're in such a crabby mood," Theo immediately shot back.

Draco's smile faded and he scowled at Theo. "Well, I suppose I'd best get going," he said, getting up.

"Oh, do you have to? I'll miss you dreadfully," Theo deadpanned.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a date with your girlfriend."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Pansy?"

Draco nodded. "Yes... Something about being madly in lust with me and needing to see me somewhere dark and private. Come to think of it, I don't think I was supposed to tell you about it."

"So she's helping you with your Potions homework again, huh?"

Draco scowled once more. Insufferable git. It would be nice if Theo would for once have the tiniest bit of doubt in his girlfriend.

Leaving the Slytherin common room, Draco strolled down to the Potions classroom, where his ex was impatiently waiting for him.

"You're late," she immediately said.

"Sorry. I had a deep and meaningful conversation with your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes. "Sooner or later you'll have to stop bothering him all the time."

"I prefer it to be later."

She bared her teeth at him, but of course never withdrew her offer to help him with his homework. Guilt at its finest. "So," she said, "Once again, you've managed to land yourself an extra essay. Congratulations!"

"Hey! I don't try to do that!"

"I honestly don't see why you aren't better at keeping your gap shut even after several months."

Draco found that to be extremely unfair. He kept his gap shut all the time! "I merely suggested to this really ugly bloke whose name escapes me that the best bet he had with the girl he was mooning after would be—"

Pansy held up her hand. "I can guess. Your note does say you were instructed to come here and 'poke' Slughorn's Amortentia that he'd leave out and then write seventeen and a half inches about it. Didn't we do love potions a long time ago?"

Draco groaned. "Yes! And can you believe that? Seventeen and a half inches!"

"Then best get to work!" She went over to the cauldron. "What do you see?" she asked.

He explained the mother-of-pearl sheen and other characteristics in a dull voice whilst scribbling down half-hearted notes. Couldn't he copy this out of a book?

"What do you smell?" she then asked.

He glared at her. "I think that's too personal to put in an essay."

"Seventeen and a half inches, Draco. I think your best approach is to smell it and build your essay up around why you think you smell those things."

"Um, because I love them?"

She sighed. "Amortentia is not actually about love, Draco."

"It isn't?"

"No! I mean, you can love what you smell, but it's generally only what you're most drawn to." She took a deep breath and smiled. "One of my favourites is pancakes."

"Aww. And here I thought I really loved sex," he sarcastically said.

"You don't smell sex."

"Do too!"

"Are you really going to put that in your essay?" She shot him a don't-be-stupid look.

"Hey, I said it was too personal..."

"You're impossible. Then let's find another—"

"Hey, Pansy?" he suddenly said.

"What?"

What, indeed? He wasn't entirely certain what he'd intended to say to her. Maybe this was as good a time as any to signal to her that she wasn't to blame for his surly self. "Why don't you leave? I got this. Go be with your boyfriend."

"No, I promised I'd help and—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he cut in. "There's no reason for you to feel so guilty. I never blamed you for leaving me for him. It was the better choice."

That stopped her in her tracks. "What?"

"I forgave you almost immediately. You only hurt my pride a little."

Her jaw fell open and she sputtered, "That's not true! Since then, you've been after Theo every chance you got! And you haven't exactly been kind to me either!"

"No, but to be quite fair, you're smothering me. And you're so disgustingly happy and in love and both so secure in one another..." That was the only thing he was jealous of. He never had anything like that. "Why wasn't it like that with us?"

"But you and I—"

"Never had that. We both know this. I'm not saying we never had feelings for each other, but it was less... solid."

"I see." She folded her arms. "But if you're so envious of love, then how come that's not what you 'smell'?"

He stared at the cauldron, the scent of sunshine and passion clear to him, even though he couldn't explain how. "Oh, I fear it is..."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was everywhere and it made Hermione miserable. She could somewhat forget what had happened and how she'd felt about it as long as she didn't have to be reminded that he existed—but there he was! In her classes, walking her halls, eating in her Great Hall. It was almost as if he lived at the same school.

She even saw him at the library a few times, but he never talked to her or even acknowledged her. Not even once. He acted like she didn't exist and she hated that feeling.

She wished she'd never decided to come on to him.

She wished she'd never as much as kissed him.

She wished he'd kept saying no to her.

Most of all, she wished that she'd managed to stay true to herself and keep her feelings out of this.

She didn't need to feel this way about someone who didn't give a rat's backside about her. He'd been in lust with her, yes, but as soon as that lust had been sated, he'd obviously found something—or someone—more interesting to do. She deserved better.

She'd certainly learned her lesson. She couldn't be casual about sex. Some people had the luxury of not getting attached, but evidently not her. She supposed there wouldn't be a second time for her until she found someone she could fall in love with. But in order to do that she had to fall out of—

Well, really, she wouldn't call it love, this thing. More like... infatuation. And a burning desire for him to smile at her again. And kiss her. And hold her at night.

Bah.

This was so unfair. And now she saw him flirting with other girls, and each time it added another cut to an already open wound, but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, so she simply had to pretend the wound didn't exist.

She really needed a cure for this. And fast.

* * *

Slughorn had had it in for Draco all year, so he generally had to make the trip to the Potions classroom at least once a week for some stupid extra project or other. He could technically refuse, but he needed good statements from his teachers, so he had to jump whenever asked to. It was odd, really. Professor Slughorn had used to avoid Draco like the plague, but now it was like he felt the need to try to improve on the youngest Malfoy by assigning him extra work and keeping him out of trouble.

This Monday was no different.

Except that when Draco entered the Potions classroom, someone else was there.

"Hermione?" he asked before he realised what he was doing. So much for pretending they weren't in the same dimension.

She turned around so fast she almost dropped what she was holding. "What?" she stammered. "I mean... You aren't supposed to be here!"

"I have a deal with Slughorn," he replied. "What are you doing here?" He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the phial of brown liquid she was trying to hide. "What's that?"

"Something I... need. An antidote for someone. Slughorn said I could have it. Carry on!"

She attempted to brush out past him, but something was off, so he quickly swiped the phial from her. "Doesn't look like an antidote."

"Give it back!" she quickly said, attempting to grab it, but he kept it outside her reach, contemplating the colour. It was rather murky. "I swear," she said, her voice slightly quivering, "if you don't give it back, I'll report you!"

He looked down at her. "I don't think you can do that," he softly replied. "Because I don't think you're supposed to take this."

"Want to test me?"

"I know what this is, Hermione. I had to include it in an essay last week." In order to reach his seventeen and a half inches about love potions, he’d included something about how it was cancelled out by hate potions and vice versa. It had gone surprisingly well and Slughorn had awarded him an Exceeds Expectations for his observations.

But there really weren't that many other uses for hate potion than to reverse the effects of a love potion or, alternately, try to fall out of love with someone. It didn’t actually make you hate the other person, it just made you able to see their worst flaws. It was a good way to help cure an infatuation.

She deflated a little. "It's for a friend. She's rather badly off. So can I please just have it?"

"And did this friend accidentally drink a love potion?"

"Yes!"

"It'll wear off. You don't need this, then."

"Damn it, Draco!"

He shook his head, not quite understanding. "I thought you were happy getting back with Weasley. Why do you want to fall out of love with him?"

She stared at him and then shook her head. "It's not for me."

"We both know it is."

She watched him for an unnervingly long time. "You're right. But what can I do? He cheated on me. I want it to be gone, Draco. Please give it to me."

Something didn't add up. "You cheated right back."

"That wasn't cheating. And, besides, he... he did it again, all right?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "He did it twice?" What kind of idiot would keep throwing something that good away?

"Shh, not so loud. Can I have it now?"

"How can you still love that arsehole after what he did to you?"

"I don't know! But that's why I want the cure!"

He hesitantly handed it to her. "He doesn't deserve you."

She snorted as she grabbed the phial. "Believe me. I know."

"You shouldn't have to drink this vile thing to get past him."

"I know that too," she said, opening the phial. "Cheers!" Then she drank deeply. He winced in sympathy when she pulled a face. "Oh, God," she said, all but retching. "That is vile!"

"Worse than sperm?" he couldn't help but ask, grinning.

She shot him a shocked look but seemed to quickly recover. "Far worse."

"Well, in that case, it's good to know that you'll eventually learn to swallow." He really shouldn't tease her like that but... he couldn't help it. He'd like to think that it didn't have anything to do with the steps she'd just taken to free herself of Weasley.

"Oh, crap," she groaned.

"What?"

"Shouldn't this be instantaneous?"

"Yes, it should."

She made another face. "Then apparently I saw y—his faults quite clearly before. At least I don't feel any change yet."

"No change at all?" He was strangely disappointed. "Perhaps you love him too much." True love would be loving someone no matter their flaws, wouldn’t it? He had no doubt that Hermione was capable of loving Weasley that way. After all, she’d gone to great lengths to forgive him that he’d lost his virginity to someone else.

"I really hope not." She sounded rather miserable at that prospect.

"If it doesn't begin to work, I guess you'll have to get over him the old-fashioned way."

"Yeah..." she muttered. "I guess. It's simply not that easy, you know?"

"I definitely know," he replied. "Everyone's tried it, I think."

"Even you?"

"Of course.”

"Ah, Pansy."

"Yeah... Pansy..." He could hardly tell her the truth. How would that even go? 'Oh, hey, sorry that you're struggling with getting over your misplaced love for your ex, but does it help that I love you and wish you could be mine?’ No. He certainly didn't think so.

* * *

Who would’ve thought that taking a hate potion, whilst looking the bugger straight in the face and having everything that should make him undesirable made clear to her, would do exactly nothing.

Hermione already knew Draco was an unapologetic bigot. She already knew he could be cruel. She already knew he’d manipulate anyone to achieve his own goals. She already knew he’d done awful things during the war. She already knew he’d rather mess about than be with her. She already knew he wasn’t opposed to telling pretty lies. She already knew he regarded witches as mere objects. She already knew... she already knew everything, and being reminded did nothing.

She still saw that gentleness in him and missed it. And she missed his teasing and caresses and the way he warred with her cat over the pillow.

She hated being so weak.

The hate potion had been an act of desperation. A way to cleanse herself. And it had failed.

Now she didn’t know what to do.

* * *

“Tell me again why you’re still helping me,” Draco said to Pansy, who was walking with him to the library. “Don’t get me wrong, I love rubbing spending time with you in your boyfriend’s face, but I thought we’d cleared up all this guilt of yours.”

“I’m not doing it because I feel guilty, stupid. I’m doing it to be a friend," she huffed.

“Ah. Friend.” He frowned. “You know, I don’t think I have any of those.”

She swatted the back of his head. “I just told you that I am one, you arse!”

“Hey!” He ducked. Why did witches always want to hit him? “Sorry. I meant any other friends.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re a complete tosser to anyone who tries to befriend you. You prefer to have minions.”

She'd certainly developed a habit of scolding him lately. Maybe she was a bit annoyed that he'd let her feel guilty for so long for no reason.

“That sounds about right,” he mildly replied.

“But I think that you’re actually lonely.”

“Of course you do. You’re a girl.”

She swatted his head again—harder this time.

“Ow! Watch it!”

“I’m going to beat that attitude out of you sooner or later.”

“But it’s true!" he insisted. "You birds always think there’s some kind of deep, meaningful reason behind everything. Why do you think I get away with being such a tosser?”

“So you’re going to deny that you’re lonely?” she challenged.

“I’m fine.”

“So I haven’t actually seen you go out of your way to be near people lately?”

“It doesn’t mean that I’m lonely merely because I can’t stand being alone.”

She snorted and shot him a sideways glance. “Uh, it kind of does.”

“Oh. No... I don’t think so.”

“You know what I really think?”

“What?”

“I think you fancy someone and it’s making you depressed.”

He felt himself shut down in the face of this topic. “And I think this conversation is over.”

“You don’t have to tell me who.”

“Good.”

“But there is someone, right?”

“Not going there, Pansy.”

“Sometimes talking about it helps,” she coaxed.

“And what exactly should I say?”

“Is it because she doesn’t want you?”

“Yes.” It was surprisingly easy to admit like this. Also, maybe that would let Pansy remember some tact.

“That’s the worst... I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. It's my own fault.”

“Now you’re being silly. You can’t control who you fall for.”

He snorted. “That's not true. I could’ve controlled some of the situations leading up to it. I could’ve avoided her. I could’ve turned her down. I could’ve stayed out of her bed...”

“Wait, you slept with her?”

“Like I said, I was asking for it.”

“She only wanted sex?”

“Yeah. At least with me.” Besides, he could hardly imagine what it would be like to actually be involved with her. His family certainly wouldn't approve. But maybe those kisses would be worth it...

“How did she react when you told her how you felt?”

He snorted a surprised laugh. “What, are you stupid? I couldn’t tell her that.”

“Then how can you be certain she doesn’t want you?”

“Because she was running straight back to her ex after. And she’d said so multiple times before that. Only sex. Only one night.”

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"You know me and Theo?"

"Are you going to preach based on your superior knowledge about relationships?"

"Shut up. No, I'm not. But... that's kind of how Theo and I started."

"What?"

"Well, obviously you weren't my ex. But I kept saying that each meeting would be the last, that I'd return to you and be the girlfriend I felt you deserved."

He glared at her for a moment before saying, "You're making this up, aren't you?"

"No! I felt so guilty for betraying you after all those years. It wasn't until you caught us and Theo told me I had to choose between the two of you that I realised I had a choice. We'd been together for so long that I thought I owed you to stay with you."

Lovely! He'd been an obligation! "She doesn't feel obligated to stay with him."

"Are you so certain about that?"

"Yeah, because they're breaking up now anyway."

"And you don't think you have anything to do with that?"

He shook his head. "No, she said he cheated on her."

"So you talked to her about this?"

"Only because I caught her stealing a hate potion."

"Ouch."

"And she even said it didn't work. How can I compete with some wanker who can keep sleeping with other witches and still have her love him?" It was so unfair. He'd already proven that he couldn't do that, even if he wanted to.

"He's done it before?"

"In a way. It's complicated, all right?"

"Now I kind of want to know who she is."

"Not on your life."

"But it sounds like she realised on her own that he's bad for her. How do you know she's ruling you out as a prospect?"

"Because... she has a lot of reason to do that. We're a really bad fit."

"How so?"

"That's also complicated." To say the least.

"Is she a half-blood?"

Close enough. "What if I said yes?"

"Then I'd ask you how much you love her."

"Why? What does it matter?"

"Does the purity of your lineage really matter more to you than your own happiness?"

"Easy for you to say. You fell for a pure-blood."

She shrugged. "I told you sleeping around like that would come back to haunt you."

"It certainly did. Aren't you happy now?"

"No. Why doesn't she want you, then? Because of your attitude towards blood status?"

"That's some of it."

"Obviously, you'll have to choose between her and those ideals."

"A choice that could cost me my family, all my friends—"

"I thought we agreed that you only have one friend. Me."

She had a point there. "Would you stand by me?"

"Certainly."

"Would Theo allow that?"

"Theo knows better than to think he has a say in what I can and cannot do," she calmly stated, making Draco almost feel sorry for Theo. But only almost.

"But could it cost you your relationship to sympathise with a blood traitor?"

"No."

"You're completely certain about that?"

"Absolutely."

"That has to be a nice feeling."

"It is."

"Right. Then I'd only lose my family. Not a problem at all!"

"I don't mean to be judgemental here, Draco, but if your parents would cut you out of their lives over this, then they need a priority check. Didn't the war teach us anything?"

"Don't associate with psychopaths?" he half-joked.

"And that those we love can be gone in the blink of an eye. The scariest thing isn't blood contamination. It's those that would use the issue of blood contamination to spread death and destruction wherever they go, killing Muggles and wizards alike."

"Like I said—don't associate with psychopaths."

"Make all the jokes you want, Draco," she said, shaking her head.

"You yourself got on my case about pursuing... who was it again?" He faked not remembering, so he wouldn't give himself away.

"That was different! It was Granger! For one thing, she's Muggle-born, which people will react more strongly towards than half-blood, and for another, she's... Granger. I can't stand her. She can do no wrong. Did you know she actually participated in an unauthorised party and got drunk, yet nobody as much as docked her any house points? And she's supposed to be our Head Girl! Hah!"

Draco couldn't keep his lips from twitching. "I did know that, actually. I was helping her at the library at that time." And that had been the first time he'd kissed her. The thought made his smile fade. He really wished that had never happened.

"Why didn't you report her?"

"What? And risk her giving me a bad review? Sorry, love. Not even for you."

She only pouted in response to that, but Draco had received the message. She'd be fully behind him if he wanted to be with a half-blood, but if he wanted Hermione Granger, he was on his own.

Next Chapter

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Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 8/10

2012-04-17T23:51:07Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 6,502

* * *

Hermione didn't bother to hide her smirk when Draco's eyes looked ready to pop out of his skull.

"Excuse me?" he sputtered.

"Yes, I do seem to excuse you a lot. I told you to strip."

He eyed her warily. "But—"

"I'm in charge here or nothing happens. After the way you scared me last time, I'm not taking any chances."

He immediately looked contrite. "Of course." Then he began hesitantly opening his shirt. "You know, this would be sexier if we were snogging meanwhile..."

"Or if you were doing a little dance." He stared at her again, horrified, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Relax, Draco, I'm only joking."

He seemed to relax somewhat and resumed his unbuttoning. "Could you be persuaded to take some of yours off as well?"

"Hmm..." She thought about it whilst running her hands down her sides and watching Draco's eyes begin to burn, no matter what he said about this not being sexy. "You get to choose one article of clothing that I will remove," she finally said.

"A pity you're not wearing your skirt today, because then I'd have said 'knickers'."

She bit her lip. Maybe if they were to do this some other time, it would be an option. "You have to deal with what's before you," she said, stretching out her arms and turning around." She was wearing common enough black trousers and a blue T-shirt with a modest square neck. It was regular clothes for her but possibly a little odd for him.

"I don't mind dealing with that..." he muttered. "All right, your bra."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "But in case you didn't notice, my bra is under my T-shirt."

"Thank you for telling me. I did in fact notice, but I've decided that I want to see you in summer mode. Also, I don't want it to get in the way. You said I could choose, so off with it."

Summer mode? What was he talking about? For a second, Hermione didn't get it at all, and then she remembered. She'd told him how she sometimes went without her bra in summer. He'd really remembered that? Partly to conceal a blush and partly to make certain he didn't see more than she'd allow at the moment, she turned her back to him and began removing her bra without removing her T-shirt.

"This angle is rather nice as well," he murmured behind her, making her blush deepen.

Damn it! Why was she suddenly acting so shy? She had to get a grip. She wasn't shy and she was finally getting what she wanted, so it was time to make him blush instead!

* * *

Draco couldn't help his grin. Hermione was finally showing more than a little modesty, not to mention shyness, and damn him if he wasn't enjoying it.

She turned back around, her breasts now slightly more bouncy, and narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm not laughing. I'm smiling."

"Your smiles don't usually involve that amount of teeth and sound."

"Today they do." He pursed his lips, looking her over. "Would you mind... moving around a little for me?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not doing anything until you get a move on. You're even still wearing your shirt!"

He opened the last button and let it slide off his arms. "What shirt?"

"Belt."

"You're so bossy."

"And you like it. Open your belt."

He did like it, but he liked it even more when he caught her off-guard so she didn't have time to put on a front of impenetrable self-confidence. Still, he'd better let her have her way, so without taking his eyes off her face, he opened his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, before pushing them down and stepping out of them.

"Ooh," she said, her eyes firmly fixed at his groin. "I can tell you like this."

"Nah," he replied. "I like you."

That unbalanced her enough that she looked up at his face and caught his eyes. Then she shook her head. "No lines, Malfoy."

"You don't think I want you?" he incredulously asked.

"Yes, of course I do. But I don't think you like me. Those are two very different things."

He stared at her in confusion. Hadn't she paid attention earlier? He thought he'd made it quite clear that there were several things about her that he both liked and lusted after. "Why don't we make a deal tonight, Granger."

"A deal?"

"Yes. We don't lie and we don't question whatever the other one says."

Her eyebrows immediately went up. "What kind of deal is that?"

"The kind that makes this go a whole lot better than me having to defend everything I say to you."

She nodded. "Point taken. Now take off your underwear. Oh, and socks too."

He stared at her. "No way!"

"Yes way."

"Hermione... You're still fully dressed!"

"Mm-hmm. The sooner you get undressed, the sooner you'll get to undress me."

He would get to...? Hesitantly, he pulled off his socks. "You really expect me to stand naked before you?"

"Yep."

"Will you stand naked before me, then?"

"Maybe later. If I get undressed now, the whole point of letting you choose one article of clothing that I should take off seems to be lost, doesn't it?"

"I don't mind."

"Of course not." She looked at him expectantly.

He sighed and pulled down his underwear, fighting the urge to cover up with his hands. If she wanted to see him, then she could bloody well see him without him giving her the satisfaction of being embarrassed about it.

"Ohh," she said, staring again. "How big are you? Do you know your measurements?"

He stared at her. "Do I... what? No, I don't know my bloody measurements."

She grinned. "Do you want to?"

"I swear to God, if you're going to whip out a ruler now..."

She held up her hands, all but laughing. "All right, all right... I guess we'll save that for some other time."

Some other time? He shot her an odd look. There wasn't supposed to be another time, was there?

"All right, you've been a good boy... now get on the bed."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Madam Granger."

"You just be glad I don't have a whip. Or a ruler."

He couldn't help but laugh as he lay down on his back. "I didn't know you were into those kinds of things."

"Maybe I am," she said, straddling him. "I won't know until I try it, will I?"

He grinned at her logic but then pursed his lips and looked down her body. "Hermione... one request."

"Yes?"

"Could you please take off your trousers?"

"No, you already had one item removed."

"Please..." He slowly ran his hands up her thighs. "It would be so sexy with you in nothing but your knickers and shirt..."

"Hmm... will you be a good boy then?"

"Aren't I always?"

"No, not always." She gave him a very telling look.

Whoops. He'd momentarily forgotten about that. Talk about putting his foot in it at the wrong time. "I'll be a good boy. Or a bad boy if you want me to."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that!" she said, standing again to slowly unbutton her trousers.

"I like the looks of that..."

She shot him a wicked smile and leisurely began pushing her trousers down her hips. She seemed to be wearing a pair of those sexy semi-covering knickers again. He didn't mind at all. She certainly had the bottom for it.

"This what you wanted?" she asked, raising her arms and slowly turning all the way around until she was facing him again.

"Uh-huh," was the most intelligent answer he could think of.

"Yes, it certainly looks that way," she said with another wicked smile and then she pounced on him.

"Ungh! Watch where you're landing," he half-heartedly objected. She hadn't hurt him when jumping him, but the way her knickers caressed him... How was he supposed to last through that? Maybe asking her to remove her trousers had been a bad idea.

"Shut up and kiss me," she said and bent down to initiate a kiss that became far too intense, far too soon.

He raised his hands to try to still her and maybe get her to give him a moment's respite, but found that he was suddenly touching very warm, very smooth skin. Her thighs. He ran his hands up over her hips to her waist and she squirmed a little in place.

He broke the kiss, gasping. "Hermione, slow down."

"No."

"Then we can't have sex."

She rolled her eyes. "Not that again."

"No, I mean... It feels so good..." He swallowed. "Too good."

"How many times can you usually come?" she asked, nibbling his neck.

How many times? What kind of question was that? "I don't know. I don't usually hold marathons."

"What's your record?"

"I think... four times."

"And how many times have you come today?"

"None... although in retrospect, that was probably stupid."

"Not at all. That should mean you can come at least twice and still have sex with me."

"Then it might take all night."

"What a coincidence! I have all night!" She grinned at him.

He slowly shook his head in amazement. "You really are something."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No... not really. How many times can you come, then?"

"I think my record was five separate times, but once I get going I can come for a really long time."

His throat worked but his mouth was too dry to cooperate with the swallowing motion. "Really?" he finally croaked.

"Mm-hmm. After a while it's almost unpleasant. Like I become too sensitive and need a break."

"Uh-huh. So... how do you achieve this?"

"Last summer before the war, my cousin got me this... it's a Muggle device. Small thing that vibrates to stimulate the clitoris. It was meant as a joke, but..." She shrugged. "I decided to try it out. Unfortunately, it doesn't work here at Hogwarts and I don't know any spells to replicate it."

"That's... too bad." It really was. He would like to see her use that thing. The very thought of it... He pulled her head down to kiss her again. He needed to feel her. He ran one hand up her shirt to her breast and found it to be soft and naughtily peaking under the thin cloth.

"I was thinking..." she muttered against his lips. "Maybe we need more... foreplay?"

He drew back, giving her a puzzled look. What was this if not foreplay?

"I mean..." she said, her cheeks slightly pinkening. "I want to help you get... release."

Oh. "I... guess..." He felt both embarrassed and excited at the prospect. He'd really love for her to touch him, but he felt it might be slightly inappropriate to shout FUCK, YES!

"Maybe... Um..." She seemed to have a hard time voicing what she wanted. "Just lie back."

He nodded and she kissed him again, a little more gently this time, and then she trailed kisses down his neck and chest and stomach. The closer she got to his groin, the more he felt himself tensing up. He tried to relax, but he really wanted her hands on him. He'd thought about it so many times. Her drawn out journey down his body was pure torture because it kept fanning the flame without giving him much relief.

"Please..." he groaned.

"I like it when you beg," she whispered against his navel.

He could believe that. He really could. "I'll beg you all night if you like, if you just..."

"Mind if I try something?" she asked.

Did he seem like he'd mind? "No." As long as she did something, anything.

Finally a warm hand tentatively grabbed his shaft, testing the feel of it.

He was about ready to go off.

"It won't break," he grunted. "You can hold on tighter."

"Like this?" she asked and squeezed.

He couldn't help but laugh to himself. She was so innocent in her exploration. "Mm," he said, propping himself up on his elbows and still sporting a smile. "But generally, the stimulation is achieved by vertical movement."

She snorted and grumbled, "Smart-arse. Lie back!"

He did as told and was about to make another wise-crack, when he felt something tickle his thighs and then something hot and moist engulfed his glans.

OH, FUCK, YES!

* * *

Hermione would've smiled at Draco's reaction if her mouth hadn't currently been very busy. She'd read that men liked this and had figured she might as well see if she liked it as well. It was a little odd, though. She'd read that she should avoid scraping him with her teeth, but they were kind of in the way. As was her tongue. And she was trying very hard not to drool all over the place.

Hesitantly, she began massaging him with her hand and then attempting a combined rhythm with her mouth. He bucked, completely throwing her off her rhythm, making her disengage before she accidentally took an inch or two off him.

"Hey!" she objected. "Lie still!"

"You can't be serious about that..."

"If you don't lie still, any teeth marks come at your own risk."

He winced. "Ow..."

"I haven't done this before..." she muttered. "I hardly know what I'm doing as it is." It certainly felt like she was doing something wrong.

"Trust me, you're doing brilliantly."

She looked up. "Yeah?" Of course she'd felt his reaction, but it was still nice to hear him praise her efforts.

He nodded and swallowed, his glazed eyes lending truth to the statement. "Yeah... I'll try to behave if you'll please try not to bite me."

She grinned and attempted to tackle the beast, so to speak, once more. This time it was slightly easier, as there was a bit more lubrication and he remained very still, even though she could hear his erratic breathing and see the muscles in his stomach constantly tensing and relaxing.

It felt very sexy to be the one to make him react like this. It also felt very sexy to be able to feel and taste in her mouth exactly how close he was to bursting.

It made her unable to resist thinking about how it would feel to have him sliding in and out of her elsewhere. Would it hurt? Would she enjoy it right away? Would he get that look on his face again and grab the covers as if he were afraid of falling off the bed?

How would it feel to have him coming inside her?

She felt his hands on her hair, his fingers twitching a bit but not quite grabbing onto her. Instead, he pulled the hair back from her face, so he had a better view.

"So... bloody... brilliant..." he grunted.

She didn't reply. It was kind of hard to chit-chat like this, after all, so she simply kept going at a slightly faster speed.

She felt him tense and grab her arms and then he made a rather unintelligible sound right before something warm and oddly textured hit the back of her mouth.

She withdrew in surprise, enjoying the look and feel of his climax, but unsure what to do about... it.

"What?" he asked, when he had enough presence to notice her doubting look.

She held up a finger to say just a second as she tried to get her throat to work and swallow. She couldn't do it. It was warm and... it had living things in it and... once more making the one second motion, she bolted from the room.

* * *

Draco felt back on the bed with a groan. That had certainly gone well. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but he didn't think that the witch running out of the room was supposed to be any part of a successful sexual act.

She came back a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

He stared at her. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "I just... had to clean my mouth."

"That bad, huh?"

She shrugged. "It was unexpected. Maybe it won't be a problem another time. But you should warn in the future to be safe."

In the future with her, or in the future in general? Either way he supposed it was sound advice. "Yeah, I will." If he had the time for it. He'd only known he was coming right around the time it happened. "That was a mood-breaker, huh?"

"Nuh-uh..." She climbed back on the bed and took his hand to navigate it down between her legs outside her knickers as she lay down next to him. "It was very exciting to see you come..."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm... You looked like you very much enjoyed it."

"Sometimes your observational skills astound me, Hermione," he teased, feeling more relaxed around her than ever before. Who knew coming in her mouth could do that?

"Don't be cheeky!"

"I'd never..." he muttered, moving his hand a little and making her gasp.

"You shouldn't do that," she half-heartedly objected.

"Why not?"

"Because I want to save it for the sex. It's going to be harder for me than you to climax."

"But won't it hurt less if you're more relaxed?"

"Possibly..."

"I could see if I'm any good with my mouth..."

"You are."

"How do you know?"

"I've kissed you."

With a reply like that, he had to kiss her again. Mmm... Sunshine and passion. And mint. He couldn't help but smile that she'd apparently brushed her teeth.

"A very talented mouth," she purred against his lips, pressing against him and making him aware of her curves once more, not to mention the hot damp place his hand was pressed against.

He moved it again and she withdrew slightly. "No! Bad Draco!"

"Admit it. You want me to be bad," he said with a grin.

"I want no such thing," she claimed, climbing onto him again, taking his wrists and pressing them down on either side of his head with her hands. "In fact, I seem to recall always asking you to be good."

"But that's not fair. You're very, very bad all the time."

"I get to be bad. I filled my goodness quota for a few years."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Intriguing. All right, then. I'll be good if you promise to be bad." He squirmed a bit under her to let her know that he wasn't unaffected by her.

Her eyes widened a little. "Haven't you ever heard about the refractory period?"

"The what?"

She snorted. "Guess not. Isn't it supposed to take a little longer before you can... go again?"

He made a small shrug. "I don't know if I can right now, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd lean down and kiss me."

She did. And she even allowed him to pull one of his hands free, so he could run it up her torso to feel her through her shirt. She blocked his path when he wanted to go under the shirt, though.

"Please take it off," he whispered against her lips.

She pursed her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her smile and shook her head.

"I didn't think bad girls were shy..."

"I'm not shy."

"No, that's right. One of the first things you did was flash me your breasts. So why not take it off now?"

"Because..." she muttered, placing little kisses on the edges of his lips. "You'll become very eager to touch me everywhere, and I already said I don't want to come yet."

"You'll have to take it off eventually... That and your knickers..."

"Mm-hmm... I will. When I'm ready."

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear so he could better see her. "Did you give any thought to how you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... do you know what... position... will be easier on you?"

"Oh. Well. I'm not certain. I could find a lot of material on the general mechanics of intercourse and such, but I didn't really find a How to Lose your Virginity in the Most Painless Way."

He snorted. "You and your books. How do you want to do it?"

"Before last time, I would've said with you on top."

He flinched. He deserved that one. "What if we try some kissing with me on top and you can tell me if it's unpleasant?"

She hesitantly nodded and climbed off him.

"Can you please also trust me enough to remove your T-shirt?"

She bit her lip and fingered the edge of the shirt. "You'd better be trustworthy then."

"Of course."

She pulled it off and was finally down to only her knickers.

He very much appreciated that look on her.

He gently pulled her down next to him and then semi-covered her body with his, making sure to keep his weight on at least one of his elbows, so it wouldn't make her feel trapped.

Then he trailed one hand up her belly to her chest and gently caressed a breast. Much more gently than he knew he had last time. He'd been a real prick to her, then. "I really am sorry," he quietly said.

"I know. Don't worry about it."

He couldn't help the slight snigger. "You sound like a pushover now."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Me? A pushover? I think it's time you shut up and used that mouth for something you're actually good at."

"Yes, Madam Granger," he said like a very good boy and covered her lips with his, making certain she had absolutely no grounds for complaining in that area.

He quickly felt her hands move up his chest to massage his shoulders and then snake around his neck to draw him closer. She really did love her kissing, didn't she?

Reluctantly letting go of her breast, he sneaked his own hand down to feel her knickers again and she whimpered.

"No..." she said, shaking her head.

"Relax," he whispered. "I don't intend to try to make you lose control. I just... want to explore a bit."

Again, she reluctantly gave her consent, spreading her legs a little wider.

He was definitely up to performing again.

He let his finger follow the narrow lace trimming around the edges of her knickers, grinning when she jolted. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who could be ticklish. He then let one finger slip under the lace.

So hot. So damp. So irresistible.

Also, slightly confusing.

He actually wasn't quite certain exactly where anything could... go in, so to speak. There seemed to be quite a lot of... decoys. Or maybe detours? He couldn't really tell what was what without looking more closely and he had a feeling she'd find that odd.

She grinned. "You look like one of those animals who knows they're supposed to do something during mating season, but can't quite figure out what."

He raised an eyebrow. "What animals would that be?"

"Really confused ones. Do you need any help? A map perhaps?" she teased.

He scowled at her. "Keep that up and nothing will happen."

"I'm sorry!" she said, giggling. "I really am. It was just that look on your face..."

"Uh-huh." He removed his hand.

"Aww, please don't be mad. Here, I'll take off my knickers." She did exactly that.

He was almost inclined to forgive her. "And where's my map, then?" he asked.

She took his hand. "I'll do better. I'll give you a guided tour."

Suddenly he couldn't remember why he was supposed to be offended. Her soft hand guiding him down between her legs completely filled his mind. She really did have a way of making a bloke forgive her.

* * *

Finding it best to hide her smile so she wouldn’t insult Draco again, Hermione made sure to bring his fingers near the exact spot he was probably looking for. “There...” she muttered.

“Will it hurt if I...?” He moved his fingers a little, seemingly itching to explore.

She shook her head. “Not as long as you’re careful and stop if I tell you to.”

Nodding, he very gently began exploring her folds, seeking out the source of the moisture and then hesitantly prodding a bit.

She couldn’t help but giggle again. “You can go further in than that.”

“But isn’t there a... thing... in the way?”

“It doesn’t completely cover up. How do you think I still bleed each month?”

“Ah.” He wrinkled his nose. “Speaking of bleeding from there isn’t all that sexy either.”

“That’s simply something you’ll have to deal with. I am likely to bleed a little tonight... Depending on the nature of my hymen, of course. Many women don’t bleed at all. But then again, many women don’t have intact hymens even if they’re virgins. I checked mine, though. It seems very much intact.” Oops, she was rambling a little. But she needed something to distract her a bit from how nice his fingers felt.

“You... checked?”

“Yes, with a mirror. You want to see it?”

“The mirror?”

“No, silly. The hymen.”

“How can you—No, never mind. I don’t really fancy seeing it.” He shook his head.

“You really are easily scared by biology, aren’t you?” Score two for unsexy foot in mouth. Maybe she should ask him to gag her?

“It’s not scary, just... odd.”

Odd? Odd? “It’s only odd because we’re taught to ignore the existence of female biology.” She gave him a challenging look.

He cleared his throat but didn’t rise to the challenge. “Right. Tell me if this gets uncomfortable.” He then slowly pushed one finger in.

It did sting a little, but Hermione didn’t comment on that. She’d have to take something both thicker and longer than the finger soon, so if anything, it was nice to have the waters tested a little first, so to speak. Also, apart from the sting, it felt really nice.

“How’s that?” he asked, his voice hoarser.

“New. Exciting. Arousing. Slightly strange. How does it feel for you?” She could hear her own voice had become rather breathless.

“Like I’m going to come the second I put anything but a finger in there.”

He was that worked up? For her? “Yeah?”

He nodded and rested his forehead against hers. “Some sex god I’m turning out to be, huh?”

“You’re doing quite well so far.”

“You’re so wet.”

“Exactly.”

“I want you so much.”

“I know. I can feel you.” She reached down to caress his length resting against her thigh.

He shivered a little but then sighed and removed his finger from inside her. It left her feeling empty and eager to be filled up again. “But I’m afraid to do it.”

That stumped her. “Why?”

“Despite of what it might’ve seemed last I came here, I don’t actually want to hurt you physically.”

“This isn’t something you can help.” She shook her head. He was making it sound like he was choosing to inflict pain on her. He wasn’t. He was choosing to have consensual sex with her, which would incidentally the first time result in a little pain. And if he was going to have second thoughts now, she would scream.

“What if I lose control and do it too roughly?”

“Then it hurts a little more," she conceded. "But it’ll pass.”

“Maybe you should be on top.”

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t want to do that. I read that when the woman is on top, the man enters her more fully, and if you were to buck up against me, I think it would be even more painful.”

He groaned. “Is there no way to get rid of that thing before sex?”

“There is. But I prefer having an actual human being to cling onto.”

“I want it to be good,” he muttered.

“It will be.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because when is it ever not good between us?”

“But—” She covered his mouth with her hand before he could finish his next objection.

“Draco, it’s really very sweet of you to have concerns,” she said. “In fact, I never thought you would have. But it’s time to forget those and go for what you want—what we want.”

He removed her hand. “Yes, Madam Granger. Did you remember to use a spell?”

“I used three.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“In case one didn’t work.”

“But then you’d only need two!”

“I figured that if one didn’t work, then there was also a chance that two didn’t work. It would be rather unlikely for three not to work, though.”

He stared at her and then burst out laughing. “Seriously, Hermione. Never change.”

He kept saying that. What exactly did he mean by it? That she shouldn’t change so he had something to laugh at or that she shouldn’t change because he liked the way she was?

“Don’t frown at me like that,” he murmured, kissing her again. “Three spells is good. It’s... safe.” He grinned against her lips.

“You’ll thank me when I don’t become pregnant.”

He laughed again.

She swatted his shoulder. "Don't laugh at me!"

"Oh, but it's all right for you to laugh at me?"

"Of course."

"Because you filled your goodness quota?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "See, we understand each other."

He shook his head. "I'll never understand you, but that's one of the things I like about you."

"What else do you like about me?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"Absolutely! Tell me about my legs."

"Sexiest things I've ever tossed off to."

She gaped at him and then couldn't help a short giggle. "Really? To my legs?"

"I can't deny that my fantasies might've gone a little further, but it all centred on where I'd like your legs... Speaking of which..." He grabbed onto her thighs and shifted his lower body so he was placed between them.

She gasped in surprise at how intimate that felt. He looked a little stunned himself but still managed a smirk.

He always seemed to regain some confidence when she let him take charge, even if it was only in small ways. Hermione felt the same way about citing books and research, and she was glad he so far hadn't called her a know-it-all tonight for her random facts, since they were an effective way for her to keep any insecurities at bay.

"Oh, my," she breathed.

"This is... not unpleasant, no."

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him. Not unpleasant, indeed. She could feel the way he was tensing against her to hold himself back.

"Shut up and kiss me," she grumbled and grabbed his hair to drag his head down.

"I thought you'd never ask," he teased, right before their lips clashed.

If his tension hadn't given him away, the kiss would have. There was no languid, teasing build-up this time. Instead, he immediately took the chance to deepen the kiss and pressed his entire body against hers, slightly moving against her in a way that was driving her out of her mind, fast.

She'd never realised how good a bit of rubbing could feel until she'd rubbed against him.

She attempted to take over the kiss by tangling her hands more firmly in his hair and stroking his tongue with hers, but he quickly shut that down, kissing her so aggressively that it was all she could do to keep up.

Finally, she had to break the kiss because she felt like she wasn't getting enough air and was getting rather dizzy. "Draco!" she gasped.

"Mm?"

"I need you. Now!"

He nodded, tensing up again. "All right... Guided tour, please."

She looked at him quizzically and he flashed her a weak grin before untangling one of the hands she'd all but forgotten in his hair and leading it down between them. "Help me, sexy witch."

Oh! She felt herself blush a little, but did as he asked, helping him to position himself.

"Any last requests?" he teased.

"Try... not to go too fast. Or be too rough."

He nodded and then pushed slightly forward.

"Ok," she said when he seemed hesitant to use enough force to actually break through anything, "you can be a little rougher than that."

He nodded again, and then when he moved, it suddenly began hurting. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders without even realising she'd grasped them, and he immediately stopped.

"N-no," she said, clenching her jaw a bit. "It's all right. Just... unusual. Go on."

She did her best to bite back the worst of the discomfort, but a small whimper still escaped her.

He groaned. "Damn, Hermione... I know you only made that sound because I'm hurting you, but..." He swallowed and stayed very still.

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheeks. To him this felt very differently and his body might choose to interpret sounds in a different way. "You enjoy it when girls make noises, then?"

"Apparently so," he muttered. "Although I'd like to think that I prefer them to be of pleasure."

"They will be in a minute," she assured him.

He shook his head a bit sadly and kissed her collarbone. "You needn't lie about that."

"I'm not. It's already beginning to feel good. I'm a little sore, but I like having you in me."

"Trust me," he whispered. "I like being in you."

"You can begin to move now..."

He shook his head again, this time very insistent. "No. We need to give it another minute."

"But—"

"Give it another minute, Hermione, or I'll come."

"Really?"

* * *

Draco looked into Hermione's eager, lust-darkened eyes, trying very hard to ignore her flushed cheeks, and suppressed another groan. "Yes, really," he managed.

"How does it feel?" she prodded.

How did it feel? Bloody amazing, that was how it felt! She was so tight and warm and wet that he wasn't certain he could live through this. And every once in a while, she'd squirm a little, trying to get comfortable, and he'd get another sensory overload and do his very best not to give in to it.

"Good," he grunted.

"You can come if you want to," she said.

This time he couldn't suppress his groan. If he wanted to? Didn't she have the slightest inkling of how hard it was to hold back?

"I liked it when you came before," she said in a low voice. "I wished I could've seen your face when it started."

He attempted to laugh. "I doubt it's that charming."

"It's honest. It's ecstasy. I want to see it."

He bent down and kissed her to make her shut up with her sexy requests. "You'll see it soon."

"All right... Has a minute passed yet?"

He grunted again, this time half out of exasperation, half out of amusement. She was going to push until he gave her what she wanted, so he carefully began moving again. "Do you like that?"

"Ohh, yes..." she breathed, grabbing onto his upper arms. "It doesn't really hurt any longer."

"Really?" He felt sweat beading on his forehead. He was so close. So close. Maybe it could distract him if she kept talking.

"I'm a little sore and desensitised, but overall it feels... so... good."

He only wished he were sore and desensitised. Maybe then he could keep this up for longer. "How do you want to come?" he whispered. He knew he was only torturing himself. He wouldn't last long enough for her to get there right now, and any image of her coming was bound to set him off straight away.

"With you kissing me..."

She had to know how she affected him. She had to. With a strangled sound, he lowered his head to kiss her again, going half out of his mind with the added stimulation of his tongue and lips. It didn't help that she was squirming even worse and running her hands down his back to his arse and pressing him up against her, begging him with her body to give her more, more, more...

His orgasm didn't come as a surprise this time. He knew exactly when he lost control and his movements became less controlled, less careful, less coordinated... But there was nothing he could do about it. He was already coming. He needed the feeling to last, so he needed to go on, to feel more, before it was over.

He squeezed his eyes shut, quite overwhelmed with how complete this climax felt. He could feel it in his entire body, draining him of all his energy and leaving him with a massively satisfied feeling.

So, this was sex.

No wonder it was such a big deal.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked straight into Hermione's. She was watching him, looking extremely pleased with both of them.

"That looked... nice..." she said, slightly short of breath.

He nodded. What about her, then? How did one ask one's partner what to do about them since one had failed to get them to climax during sex?

"Could you, um..." she began, blushing a little, "I'm noticing that you still feel a little..."

He waited for her to go on, but she couldn't seem to find the words. "Yes?" he prodded.

"Can you move a little more before you go... you know... or is that painful?"

She wanted him to move inside her for a minute or so until he lost his erection? He tried flexing his hips. No, it didn't seem uncomfortable, so he complied.

She threw her head back. "Oh, yes, that's nice..." she whispered, and he felt her hand moving down between them. "Don't stop."

He didn't plan to. He liked that look on her face and would gladly keep doing this until he was raw if that was what it took.

Apparently it took much less.

With her touching herself and him trying to gauge what kind of movements she enjoyed the most—and getting randy enough to wonder if he'd be physically able to continue into next round without actually needing a break—she was soon squirming and begging him to go faster.

And then she made a very specific kind of gasp and moan that he somehow knew what meant, and he made certain to kiss her that very moment so she got what she'd requested. She showed her appreciation of that by throwing her arms around him and continuing to kiss him for several minutes.

For a first time, it really hadn't gone that badly, if he had to say so himself.

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Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 7/10

2012-04-17T23:47:54Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,137

* * *

Draco was confused. Hermione seemed to be avoiding him all of a sudden and he had no clue why. She sat far from him in class, sent no notes, and one time he was certain she changed her path to avoid him.

Finally, he sent a note to her. “I’ll come by tonight.”

The reply was swift and merciless. “I have other plans, sorry.”

What was that supposed to mean? Hadn’t she wanted him to come by?

“But I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“It will have to wait.”

“What about during library duty, then?”

“Didn’t the Headmistress summon you yet? She’s back and so is Madam Pince. Our library duty is over. ”

Draco blinked at the bit of parchment in front of him. He'd heard no such thing. He couldn't say he was exactly pleased at having to go back to the painful scrutiny of before, but it was inevitable, he supposed.

"No library duty, then," he wrote back. "But I'll come over tomorrow."

She didn't respond and he chose to interpret her silence as agreement.

* * *

"So... as Head Girl, exactly how many areas of this castle do you have access to?" Mallory asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. She couldn't get over the fact that Ginny had put her together with Mallory of all people. Apparently his new relationship had been short and tempestuous. Or, as Ginny put it, 'rather typical for their age'.

"A lot of them. Why?" she answered.

"I hear the view from the Astronomy Tower is good this time of night." He flashed her a grin.

At least he wasn't afraid to use regular old innocent lines on her.

"That could perhaps be arranged," she airily replied, "but what would be in it for me?"

"I'm certain I could find a way to show my gratitude," he said with a wink.

She laughed. There was no way she could stop herself from laughing at such a show of light-hearted charm.

"Come on, then," she said, leading the way to the tower.

"I was surprised Weasley approached me on your behalf," he conversationally said as they were walking along. "I didn't think you had any problems doing your own asking out."

Hermione shrugged. "I've had some bad experiences lately. I'd rather not be rejected to my face right now."

"I know that feeling," he muttered. "Why do these things always have to be so complicated?"

"They don't," Hermione simply replied, opening the locked door that guarded the tower stairs.

"What do you mean?" Mallory asked.

"I mean that we could keep it simple. Not get involved like that."

"No involvement?" he asked, sounding sceptical.

"I wouldn't say no involvement. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind some physical involvement."

The way he looked at her, she could tell he was considering it. "I don't think I'd mind that," he replied.

"Of course you wouldn't," she said with a smirk.

* * *

Draco stared at the scene before him. Other plans, indeed. Why was she suddenly rejecting him to go off with some other bloke? He didn't know Mallory very well, but considering that the boy was only sixteen or so, he wasn't bound to live up to Hermione's high expectations regarding experience.

Maybe it was only him she required that from.

He couldn't make out everything they were saying, but even he could see how much she was flirting from where he was standing.

It was a good thing he'd seen them walk by as he was coming from the library and had decided to follow them. It would've been rather embarrassing to have confessed his own sexual status when this was what she was up to.

Suddenly, Mallory bent forward and kissed Hermione. It was a hesitant kiss at first, but Hermione didn't object, so it quickly became more passionate.

Draco couldn't believe his own eyes.

How many others had she been out with, then? How many boys had she "tested" and attempted to seduce in these past few weeks? How many had slept in her bed and had to deal with that stupid cat of hers? Was she even still a virgin?

How many lies could one little Muggle-born seductress spew in a few weeks?

Without making his presence known, he turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

"Stop!" Hermione gasped, breaking free from Mallory. "I need air."

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I was having fun."

Oddly, she hadn't been having that much fun. Mallory seemed to be a competent kisser, but she simply didn't feel any spark with him. He was cute as hell, but mostly she wanted to hug and pet him—in a decidedly non-sexual way.

How annoying.

"Maybe we should save the Astronomy Tower for some other time," she said.

"Yeah?" he said, looking suggestive. "What did you have in mind, then?"

She hated to disappoint him, but she'd better quash those hopes of his fast. "Homework! I mean, I just remember that I have a lot of it and I should really get it done."

"It's Friday. You have all weekend."

"You'd think that, but what with being the Head Girl and... and I promised to tutor some people and I'm helping at the library and... I really have to go. I'm sorry. I didn't think this through, obviously."

"You think everything through."

"No, I really don't. Trust me."

"If you're regretting this, just say so."

She flinched. "I'm sorry." Then she hurriedly walked off.

* * *

Now what?

Draco sat in his common room, pondering that very question. He hadn't realised how much he'd counted on somehow getting to the finishing line with Hermione until now when it was fairly obvious that it wouldn't happen.

He also hadn't realised how much he'd let her get to him.

He couldn't remember feeling this sick about seeing two people kiss since he'd walked in on Pansy snogging Theo. This was all very odd, considering that he'd been going out with Pansy for almost five years and he'd only snogged Hermione for a few weeks.

He tried not to put too much importance on it, though. He'd already known that Pansy had been drifting away from him back then and he'd mostly kept her around because it was comforting to have someone so familiar.

He simply hadn't expected to be shafted like that, not then and not now. That was all.

Zabini entered the room and gained a look of unholy glee when he spotted Draco. "Malfoy! Just the wizard I wanted to see!"

"What?" Draco dully responded, not in the mood for Slytherin games.

"I merely wanted to express my appreciation that you made a certain witch named Jenny need to be comforted."

"Ah. And I suppose you did the comforting."

"Yes, indeed." He flashed a grin.

Draco couldn't care less. "So, was she worth your time?"

"More than worth it," Zabini assured him. "That witch knows a few tricks."

"You'll be seeing her again, then?"

Zabini snorted. "You must be joking. She's half-blood. She's good but not that good."

Draco nodded. That was a very real concern as well. Blood status. Almost everyone in Slytherin would have their lives very seriously impacted in a negative way if they were to openly associate with a half-blood on equal terms. A Muggle-born was almost unthinkable.

Zabini excused himself to go to bed, but Draco hardly noticed him.

He was battling a lot of feelings about Hermione that he didn't fully understand. There was the frustration of thwarted lust, the disgust of her duplicity, and something that did feel a bit like sadness. After he'd realised how much he wanted her, he'd still liked her well enough to not want to ruin her first time with his inexperience when she'd clearly wanted something better than that.

He'd even decided to be honest with her.

Draco had always figured that whilst Hermione could hold her own against him and his friends, she was genuinely kind and caring. If anyone ever truly needed her for something, she would be there, no questions asked. He even thought she'd help out Pansy if the need arose and he knew first-hand from hours of listening to Pansy how much the two of them despised each other.

Yet she'd led him on, only to reject him to go out with someone else for no reason at all. That wasn't kind at all! If he'd had feelings for her—which he didn't—it would've been downright cruel! And here he'd thought that in spite of everything, they'd shared a few moments in that bed of hers. Obviously, he was mistaken.

Maybe he should merely sleep with her.

The thought gave him pause.

Of course, there was no guarantee that she even still wanted to, but maybe she could be persuaded if he came on to her strong enough. And then he could, whether she was still a virgin or not, get what he craved so badly, and he wouldn't even have to feel rotten about it. It would be her own fault for how she'd treated him. Besides, he really would do his best and try as many times as she'd let him, so he wasn't being a complete dick to her, in spite of what she'd done.

He simply needed to have her. Once he'd had her, all these heavy feelings in the pit of his stomach would go away, he was certain of that.

* * *

When the knock finally sounded on Hermione's door, she hesitated to open it. She knew it was Draco out there; she simply didn't know what to do about him. She could pretend she didn't know about his other girls and go ahead and try to seduce him, or she could tell him definitively no.

Neither option appealed to her. She still felt bile rising in her throat whenever she thought of him with that other witch, but she didn't know where else to find that kind of chemistry. He'd spoiled her into not even wanting to snog Mallory, damn it!

The knock came again, more insistent this time. "Stop playing games, Granger!" Draco's voice said from the other side of the door.

She huffed and slammed the door open. "I do not—!"

His lips were on hers before she could finish and he was crowding her to the point where she was forced to step back, only to have him follow.

What was this?

She tried to object, but he ignored it and merely used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, stroking hers in just the way he'd discovered she enjoyed it last time he'd been here.

She felt herself going soft against him, giving in to how lovely it felt. He had to still want her to kiss her like this. Maybe she could look past her hurt feelings and still have one night with him.

She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, even going so far as standing on the tip of her toes to reach him more easily. At first he seemed stunned, but then he grabbed her neck, making the kiss more forceful, almost painful.

"Wait! No..." She turned her head away.

"What?" he sneered. "Now you suddenly don't want to?"

She stared at him in shock at his hostility. "The door is open..."

He turned around, shut the door and locked it. "There."

"What's wrong?" she had to ask.

"You are."

"Me?"

"Yes. So, so wrong." Then he kissed her again, no less aggressively than before.

Hermione was confused to say the least.

He pushed her backwards until her calves hit the bed and then further, making her fall back on it. She gave him a wide-eyed stare, trying to figure out what he was doing, but there was only a second's respite before he resumed the kiss, sliding his hand up under her shirt to grab her breast, hard.

She gasped. This was wrong. This wasn't what she wanted. She turned her head aside and he took it as an invitation to rake her neck with his teeth. She winced. It wasn't painful per se, but he was definitely on the rough side of pleasant.

His other hand moved down to her waist and began fumbling for a way to open her trousers and she froze. No! Not like this!

"Stop..." she muttered, trying to push his hand away.

"Shut up," he growled. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To drive me so mindless that I can't refuse? Well, you have it now. Aren't you pleased?"

Just because I offered you something before, doesn't mean you're entitled to it now!

"No! Wait!" She shoved at him with all her might.

He resisted at first but then simply sneered and moved off her. "So that was your plan all along? To reject me before anything happened?"

She shook her head. "I think you need to leave."

"Oh, I'll leave." He got up, adjusting his own clothes as he did so. "But, Granger? Don't you ever dare come near me again."

He slammed the door after himself and Hermione was left on her bed trying to figure out what had just happened.

* * *

Draco was lying fully clothed on his stomach on top of his covers, his face buried in his pillow.

He didn't even know himself any more.

The plan had been to come on strong to Hermione, not to partially violate her. But seeing her, feeling her yield to him, realising how much he wanted her... it had made him angry and frustrated and he'd wanted to punish her. He'd wanted to make her hurt.

Since when was that him?

Since he couldn't get that damn image of her kissing some other boy out of his head, that was when.

He began shaking. So this was what he was made of? Someone who'd get jealous for no reason and then turn into a monster?

Why did she have to make him want her like that? He'd known it had been a bad idea from the start. She brought out the worst in him, and he was quite certain that he brought some of the worst out in her as well.

It really had been a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

Why did he have to want her?

Why did he want to hurt her so much that he hurt himself?

This was worse than his very worst fears.

* * *

"Hermione?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around, clutching the book she'd been perusing to her chest. "If I'm not supposed to go near you again, then you can't talk to me!"

He flinched. "I know... I... I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh." She glanced around, probably mapping her escape route in case things got unpleasant.

"And I was out of line."

"Yes." She nodded, looking very much in agreement.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I... understand if you're staying angry with me."

"No, really?" she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice before she continued in a hushed tone, "You understand if I'm staying angry at you? After what you did?"

"I stopped."

"It was still assault and you know it."

"If I hadn't been rough, would you have minded?"

"It doesn't matter. You were rough and I did mind!"

She was right and this conversation was over. He didn't want it to end like that, but he didn't know what else to say. "I saw the two of you," he blurted out.

"What?"

"You and the one you crib-robbed."

"And?"

Her flip response infuriated him even though he had some vague awareness that it shouldn't. "And I don't appreciate being led around like that."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you!"

"Excuse me?"

"So you're going to pretend you haven't been doing things with other witches?"

"Of course I haven't!" Not really.

She sneered, a look wholly unbecoming on her. "Do me a favour and save your lies for someone who'll believe them!"

"Lies? Since when do I lie to you?"

"Oh, let me see if I can remember... You have the most stunning eyes I've ever seen. But remind me again, Draco—is it blue or brown you prefer?"

His mouth had fallen open. "Were you following me?"

She shook her head as if not believing his gall. "Not the issue here. The issue is that you're a two-timing liar, so you can't criticise me!"

"And yet you'd have slept with me if I hadn't been rough," he saw it fit to point out.

"Hey, I invested a lot of time in you—might as well get some payoff."

That sounded disturbingly familiar to him. Was that really how he'd acted towards others in the past? "You heartless bitch."

"Says you."

"I wasn't two-timing. We were non-exclusive." And nothing happened. Somehow he didn't want to reveal that last bit. He didn't want to look like he was pining for Hermione.

"And yet you got pissed off that I went out with someone. Something doesn't match up here." She adopted a haughty, disdainful look that he'd never seen on her before.

Of course she was right. None of his feelings matched up and it was confusing and maddening. But, damn it, nothing had happened with Jenny! Who knew what had gone on between Hermione and her toy boy?

"So we've both made mistakes," he said, trying to get back to status quo with her.

"Nuh-uh," she replied, violently shaking her head again. "You went out with a witch first and you were an arse first!"

That much was probably true. He raised an eyebrow at her, trying to make her see some humour in the situation. "Where have you been for the past seven years, Hermione? I've always been an arse."

She pursed her lips as if amused but not wanting to be. "As I said, you were an arse first. I didn't specify when."

"Yet you wanted me," he reminded her.

"It seemed logical at the time."

He couldn't help but laugh at that notion.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Another chance." This was perhaps a bit too honest, but how else would he get a second chance?

"Why? You weren't too thrilled about the first one."

"It grew on me."

"You scared me!"

He looked away. How could he defend that? "I know."

"So... what? We have sex once—"

"Might take two or three times to get the most out of it," he was quick to interject.

"—one night, and then what?"

He shrugged. "Hey, this was all your idea."

"Hmh."

"You don't want to any longer?"

"Come to my room next Saturday after dinner and we'll discuss it," she said.

"That's almost a whole week from now!"

"Take it or leave it."

* * *

To have sex or not to have sex, that was the question. Hermione found it extremely hard to find an answer to this question. She was obviously still very physically attracted to Draco, but he'd really scared her last time and he'd had sex with that other girl.

She did her very best for the next six days to simply get over it. Forgiveness was a state of mind, right? She actually had a much easier time forgiving his rough approach to her last time than she did forgiving that he'd been with someone else. It didn't matter how often she told herself that this was stupid. She hated the thought of him touching anyone else, kissing them, doing all the things to them that he'd always refused to do to her.

Why had he refused having sex with her until now? She'd somehow thought it meant he had abstained from sex altogether, but obviously that wasn't the case. He'd preferred to use his parts on someone else. And it stung.

She'd thought he wanted her. Or, rather, she'd felt that he wanted her. That night he had spent in her bed, it had been pretty damn obvious that he'd had a hard time holding back. And then he'd simply gone and slept with someone else, right after their night of talking and kissing and even cuddling.

The thought made her sick. He made her sick. She made herself sick. She'd always known their fling was only some temporary physical thing, so why did she feel like this after one stupid night that didn't even include sex?

She was overreacting. After the thing with Ron, she was probably oversensitive to that kind of thing. Obviously she was no good at keeping things casual or having temporary breakups. She needed either a committed monogamous relationship or nothing at all.

But she could have that one night with Draco first. Didn't he kind of owe her that? And he seemed willing enough now. She only needed to keep her wand safely within reach so she could hex off his bits if he should become too rough again.

When the knock came on Saturday, she still wasn't prepared. She hadn't made any real decision about how to feel or what to do.

Still, she'd better open the door. So she did.

"Brown," he said.

"What?"

"You asked me if I preferred blue or brown eyes, and I thought about it. I prefer brown. They look... deeper."

She snorted. "Don't even try to go back to giving me lines."

"I'm not." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I especially like it when the eyes are so dark they're almost black. It looks very exotic and wise. I like people with brains and most blue-eyed girls I know are fairly vapid."

"You're seriously stereotyping people based on their eyes?" she had to ask.

"Hey, you asked my preferences and I gave them. Can I come in now?"

She stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him but making a point of not locking it.

"Ah," he said, looking at her face. "You don't look like you're in a very seductive mood today."

"I have my doubts," she admitted.

He sighed. "This is all so stupid. I should've gone for it when I had the chance."

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you go for it?"

"Because I'm stupid, obviously."

"No, I need a better reason than that, Draco."

He shook his head. "What does it matter now?"

"Tell me!"

"Uh, well, you know, you're the Head Girl and—"

"Bite me!" she said by way of interruption. She was so sick of all his half-arsed excuses.

"Excuse me?"

"That is not your reason. Neither is bigotry. Give me the real explanation before I lose my patience with you and kick you out again."

He looked away. "You will anyway."

"Why?"

"Because..." He sighed, looking rather resigned. "Remember how I wasn't as experienced as I was given credit for?"

"Yes. But as far as I can tell, you're working hard at remedying that."

"But that's just it! I've never had sex. Ever. Not even once. Not even with Pansy!" He was beginning to look agitated, fidgeting and twitching as if he wanted to pace, but he couldn't both do that and keep eye contact with her at the same time, and right now he seemed determined to keep eye contact. He wanted her to believe this.

She stared at him until her eyes went dry and then rapidly blinked. "Why would you say that?"

"You wanted the truth."

"No, that can't be the truth." There was so much evidence to the contrary! Or was it only hearsay? But how could he get a reputation like that without doing anything to warrant it?

"It is."

"You don't kiss like a virgin," she rather tamely objected.

He snorted. "Neither do you."

"And I saw you..."

"Do what? Have sex? Hardly. I kissed her and then changed my mind."

Her eyes widened. "Oh." So he hadn't done anything, after all? Except for a kiss, of course. And intending to do something. Still... he'd changed his mind! The relief was immediate and so big she almost felt dizzy.

His cheeks flushed. "She wasn't my type, ok? I didn't want her. It had nothing to do with you."

"Of course." Hermione cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "Just out of curiosity—why are you still a virgin?"

His blush deepened. "It's a coincidence."

"I don't think so."

"No, it really is. It's harder to get most girls in bed than you'd think."

"Maybe it doesn't help that you keep turning down someone who is perfectly willing?"

"You were so damn insistent that you wanted me for my experience when I actually had none."

She supposed she had been. "So why not simply tell me that?"

"Are you joking? And risk having everyone know?"

"Or you could've slept with me anyway."

"I wanted to, but each time I got so excited that I knew I'd give myself away. The last thing my reputation needs is to have someone as well-known as you ridiculing my prowess or revealing my inexperience."

"Wow, you really don't think very highly of me, do you?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I never said my fears were rational. And there was also the issue of disappointing you."

"Why would you care about that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

She shrugged. Because he was Draco Malfoy and generally didn't care much about others? "You're here today and you didn't seem like you were going to tell me this willingly... So I guess you got over it, huh?"

"I figured you might not actually be a virgin yourself any longer after you went out with Mallory."

Really? He'd thought she'd sleep with Mallory like that? Well, she supposed that had been the plan, but only because she'd thought he'd slept with someone else first! "Why would that matter?"

"It's the first time you remember, isn't it? Not the second. And if I really did botch it, I'd try again."

"And what if I'm still a virgin as well?"

He shrugged, looking mildly uncomfortable. "I'd do my best. I really would."

"But you didn't plan to tell me that you were a virgin."

"No. Because then you wouldn't give me the chance to try, would you? You wanted the Draco Malfoy the girls are whispering about in the corners. Not the real Draco Malfoy. Not me."

He really believed that? Hadn't he been there for any of their snogging sessions when she'd all but whimpered with need? "That might have been true at first, but you could've told me the night you stayed here."

"Why would I risk that? It would've been much better to simply get rid of it."

Hermione clasped her mouth with her hand as the meaning of his words hit her. "Oh, my God. That other witch... you were trying to..."

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted her. "I couldn't do it, all right? Didn't want her. She was a poor choice."

"This is the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Thank you."

"You really think you'd suddenly be a sex god after one time? You do realise that these things take time and practice? Not to mention that statistically speaking, most teenagers—"

"I simply didn't want to be overwhelmed!"

"Overwhelmed?" She cocked her head.

He looked very uncomfortable at her renewed scrutiny. "Whenever I touch, feel, taste or smell something new, I'm about to lose it. I didn't want to embarrass myself, ok?"

"I think that would be sexy."

"Excuse me?"

"You getting so excited you lose it. I find that thought very sexy."

He snorted. "Wait until you try it and realise it leaves you unfulfilled."

"Why would I be unfulfilled? You can go again, right? And if you can't, there's always hands, fingers, lips and tongue... right?"

He stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you could manually stimulate me."

"That's not what I asked and you know it."

She pursed her lips. "Then I guess I'm saying that I'm still considering it."

* * *

It was probably his lust talking, but right now she was so pretty, not to mention much sexier than any witch in Muggle clothes had any right to be. He couldn't tell her, though, because she'd feel like he was using a meaningless line and become offended, eliminating his already slim chances.

Draco glanced away, only to have his eyes fall on the bed. He'd had fantasies about this bed and the girl before him so many times that he could already feel himself reacting. Damn it.

"What do I have to do to convince you to do it?" he asked.

"First, you'll have to answer my question—why haven't you had sex yet?"

"I already told you!"

"No, we had a very interesting conversation about why you haven't had sex with me, but I don't buy that you couldn't get anyone to go to bed with you before."

She was far too observant, damn her. "It's true."

"That witch the other night seemed willing enough," she pointed out.

"I told you, I didn't really want her."

"That happen a lot?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seems to me that you don't enjoy it when it's too easy."

"And you've been hard?" It was probably a low blow, but it was hardly a secret who had been pursuing whom.

"Let's not forget that you've only really shown interest in me whenever I've intended to stop pursuing you," she reminded him.

"I suppose..."

"I'm right, aren't I?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. Shallow, stupid girls I can't talk to annoy me and leave me cold and that tends to make me really rude to them so they run off."

"You don't have to be stupid to be shallow."

"Maybe not, but most of the girls who want to sleep with me seem to be both."

She crossed her arms. "Does that include me, then?"

He blinked. "Of course not. You're neither."

"Pray tell how me wanting to sleep with you suddenly isn't shallow."

He shrugged. "That's an easy one. You're doing it because you have an odd sense of logic and because you're sexually attracted to me. Most of the other birds in this place want to do it so they can brag about it to their friends."

She looked at him thoughtfully and then nodded. "You do make a strangely appealing case for yourself right now. In spite of your disdain for most girls around here."

"I'm... sorry?" He frowned. "I'm not certain I understand, though."

"You're stereotyping their motivations. It comes across as misogynistic."

He gaped at her.

She merely waved a hand. "Never mind. I can deal with a misogynist for a one-night-stand."

"I'm not quite certain what that word means, but I'm sure I'm not."

"Maybe I'll explain it to you later. Right now, strip!"

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 6/10

2012-04-17T22:55:24Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,137

* * *

“Wait!” Hermione said, turning her head away. “Rules!”

Draco nuzzled her ear and regrettably removed his hand from under her shirt. Completely. “Tease.”

“No, I’m not. You are. Hence, rules.”

“All right,” he whispered, still very close to her ear. “What rules do you want?” Then he nibbled at it before she could reply.

She swallowed. He was so playful today. It was odd in a strangely nice way. “You don’t blame me for whatever happens.”

“All right. But you don’t blame me either when we don’t have sex.”

She looked at him. “Then you redefine sex to vaginal intercourse.”

His head shot back and he looked at her for a long time before finally asking, “As in... you want a repeat of last time?”

She slowly shook her head. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I want to touch you," she whispered.

“Like last time?”

She shook her head more forcefully. “I already said no to that. Besides, I already sort of am touching you like that...”

“Then ho—oh.”

“It could just be a little bit.”

“I’m not certain I’m comfortable with that.”

She let out a long breath. Why did she keep doing this to herself? “Of course not. Never mind.”

“Wouldn’t you rather that I touched you?”

She shook her head. No, she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be the only one who seemed to get anything from these meetings. She didn’t want to feel weak and vulnerable whilst he blamed her for his own weakness and ran off.

“I would, you know,” he continued. “If you asked me to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been nice to me and have pretty eyes and sexy legs,” he replied with a small grin.

She wasn’t in the mood to be charmed, though. "Hmh."

"Although your pout isn't that sexy," he teased.

"If it doesn't give me what I want, why bother being sexy?"

He sighed and rolled onto his back, putting his hands behind his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yes."

His grin returned. "Impossible, but funny. I like that about you."

"Doesn't it go against some sort of secret code of yours to acknowledge you like anything but my legs?"

"Not really. I've always appreciated any kind of humour that's not at my expense."

"Tell me, Malfoy. Is it because I'm too aggressive?"

He didn't bother to feign that he didn't follow. "Not really."

"I know I can be very determined and it puts some people off. But life's too short to sit around and wait for it to happen."

"Wait for what to happen?"

"Life!"

"You're not a very patient person, are you?"

"I suppose not."

"That's funny. I thought you'd be. But then again, I thought a lot of things about you that were wrong."

"Likewise."

"Yeah?" He perked up, giving her his full attention. "Where were you wrong about me?"

"I thought you'd sleep with me."

"Oh. That again." He actually seemed disappointed.

"And I thought you'd attempt to use it to your own advantage, either by ridiculing me to boost your reputation or blackmailing me to have things your way."

"Then why start anything in the first place?"

"Because I decided you wouldn't be able to successfully ridicule or blackmail me without serious repercussions to yourself and I meant to remind you of that after the deed was done."

"You have a plan for everything, don't you?"

"Yep. Except for you saying no. That one stumped me. I didn't figure I was off-putting enough to warrant that."

He didn't reply for a bit, but that was all right. She much preferred silence than some insincere reassurance that she wasn't off-putting at all. All evidence pointed to the contrary, after all.

“How many girls do you think I’ve slept with?” he suddenly asked.

“What?”

“A rough estimate from all these rumours you’re going by.”

She shrugged and scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know. Ten. Maybe twenty?”

He nodded. “All right. Ten to twenty girls. Bear in mind that I only broke up with Pansy in the beginning of the school year and never cheated on her, so I have had less than six months to get that done.”

Hermione shrugged. “Ten girls in six months is approximately a new one every eighteen days. It’s doable.”

He snorted. “Not around these parts, it isn’t. It’s impossible to find that many girls who'd be willing so fast. Also, twenty girls in six months is a new one every nine days. I’m certainly busy.”

“So what are you getting at?”

“Most of these girls are liars.”

“Oh, I figured that much.”

He propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her. “You did?”

She nodded. “Of course. There are several inconsistencies in their stories, after all. I always thought it was more likely that you’d only been with a handful of girls and the rest exaggerated a snog or two, if even that.”

“Oh.”

“I still don’t see your point.”

“My point is that I’ve simply never slept around as indiscriminately as you seemed to think. I admit I’ve kissed quite a few, but everything else is vastly exaggerated.”

She tilted her head and looked at him long and hard. “Are you saying you're reserving it for a witch you really like?"

He pursed his lips. "Now, now, Granger. Don't be so nosey."

"Oh, come on!"

"Maybe I'm simply reserving it for a witch who isn't doing it to get even with her boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend," she insisted.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"So you're saying you don't plan on getting back together with him after?"

She didn't reply.

"I thought so. He's your boyfriend."

"Even if I did have a boyfriend—which I don't—I'm not doing it to get even with him."

"Then what will you call this?"

"Levelling the field?"

"Also called getting even."

"No! I'm not doing it to punish him. I'm doing it because I want to and because I need our statuses to be the same before I can make a final decision."

"You mean, you want your statuses to be even?"

"Ugh, now you're impossible!"

"You know I'm right."

"So what if you are? I don't care. I'm not thinking of him when we snog."

He snorted. "That's always something."

“Besides, I thought you said we weren’t exclusive.”

“We aren’t. But the two of you are.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling, wondering if that crack in the painting had always been there.

“Hey...” he said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Being apart from someone can be hard. You start feeling like you don’t know them any more. You can work it out if you both want to.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You were apart from Pansy, weren’t you?”

The corner of his mouth drew up in what wasn’t quite a smile. “Would you have brought someone you cared about to visit at a place like Malfoy Manor during the war?”

“But you eventually broke up.”

“Because we didn’t both want to work it out. In fact, neither of us did. She’d found someone new and I simply felt like she was a complete stranger and wondered what we’d been doing.”

“Yet you seem bitter.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you talk to her. You’re always so curt and rude. It’s either like you never cared about her at all or like you still care about her very much.”

“Huh.”

“It’s ok if you do, you know.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s over... She just annoys me a lot. Her guilty conscience makes her smother me with well-meaning ‘help’ that I have absolutely no use for. All she does is complicate everything and I wish she’d stop.”

“Maybe you should say you forgive her so she doesn't feel guilty any longer?”

“What?”

“That’s what she’s looking for, right?”

He stared at her. “That has to be too simple...”

“You won’t know until you try it. Just try to sound sincere so she’ll believe you.”

He laughed out loud. “I never thought we’d have a conversation like this.”

“I know, it’s oddly normal.”

“We should stop. It’s scary.”

“I’m not scared," she immediately said.

“Of course not. Nothing scares you.”

“Or maybe I don’t fear things merely because they are new, strange or I don’t understand them.”

“That’s a nice way of calling me a bigot again, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Suppose?”

Now it was his turn to stare at the ceiling. He pursed his lips as if mulling it over. “The truth is that I’m not really passionate about any of it either way. I only ever wanted to make my family proud and be a worthy successor to the Malfoy name. I failed at being able to do much all through the war, and now there isn’t even much of a name to succeed to, so...” He shrugged.

“So you’re saying that you only ever picked on me to make your daddy proud?”

“Yes. And because Potter really annoyed me. Come to think of it, so did you, what with your swotty ways. Would it have killed you not to always know everything?”

“I never knew everything!”

“Uh-huh, in class you did. And if your advice with Pansy works, I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Oh, that’s gratitude!”

He gravely nodded. “Come to think of it, I’m actually glad you don’t know about sex. That means there’s a gap in your knowledge where millions of other people actually do know.”

“I’ll know soon enough.”

“Millions of people, Granger. Imagine that. In fact, at this very school—”

“You’re just trying to annoy me, aren’t you?” she cut him off.

He grinned. “Is it working?”

“Sort of.”

“Good.”

“That’s no way to treat a witch whose bed you’re currently sharing!” she whinged, even though she was actually having an odd kind of fun right now.

“Mm, you’re right. I should probably go find my own bed.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because my bed is eight floors down and in a room with several other beds filled with boys that snore and, frankly, smell rather badly most of the time. You smell nice and your room is quiet. I’ll go in a minute.” His reluctance wasn't exactly subtle.

She considered it for a second. “You don’t have to.”

“Hm?”

“You could stay.”

“Did this conversation just go full circle?”

She laughed. “No, not quite. You can stay and sleep on only one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Ah. Should’ve known.”

“No. You keep your underwear on, silly. But everything else—off.”

“And you promise not to try to get into my underwear?”

“That’s a big promise...”

“Hermione...”

“All right, all right. I solemnly sw—eh, I mean, I promise I won’t try to tamper with your underwear.”

He shot her a look. “And what about you?”

“I have sleepwear if my underwear is too revealing for you.”

“You really have no modesty, do you? What if someone finds out?”

“Why would anyone find out? Nobody ever comes here and even if they did come early and saw you leaving, we could just say you had to see me about something.”

* * *

Draco glanced at Hermione. She seemed perfectly serious.

“All right, then,” he said, getting up and hesitantly removing his shirt.

She bit her lip and he felt his cheeks heat. It was both gratifying and embarrassing to have her appreciate his bare skin like this.

“Now the trousers,” she impatiently said. “Come on, Draco. We don’t have all night!”

He raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought we did.” But he still opened his trousers and stepped out of them.

She’d sat up, her eyes big and round, staring at one place in particular.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare like that at my crotch,” he muttered, scowling. He was reacting and knew she could see it.

She grinned at him. “Just trying to gauge size here.”

“Oh, so now size matters too?”

“Of course it does.”

“That’s... reassuring. What any bloke wants to hear, really.”

“Why is it so wrong that I don’t want the first one to be too large?”

He stared at her and then laughed. “Oh, Granger... Never change.”

She pursed her lips and then shook her head. “You’re still wearing socks!” she said, getting out of bed and casually undressing.

He couldn’t help but look. He really enjoyed looking at her body. She had really nice legs—probably from constantly climbing up and down those damn stairs—a nice perky bottom, well-rounded breasts and a cute little soft belly. He liked that. He enjoyed curves and softness on girls.

“Now who’s looking?” she asked, going to her chest to rummage around a bit for her nightwear.

The view from where he was standing was exquisite and he soon realised that he’d best get into bed before she got any ideas. He ducked under the covers right as she straightened and pulled on a pair of baggy pyjama trousers and a sleeveless T-shirt.

“Now I’ll be hot as hell,” she grumbled as she went for the bed.

“I can keep my distance,” he offered.

“Not on your life.”

“Oh?”

She got in on the other side of the bed. “Well, since you’re here, I want a goodnight kiss. Is that too much to ask?”

Yes. Far, far too much. “Of course not,” he said, shifting closer to her. “How do you want it, Madam All-Knowing?”

She smiled. “Lengthy.”

* * *

When Hermione woke the next morning, she was alone again. Feeling disoriented, she sat up and looked around, but there was no sign of Draco whatsoever. His clothes, bag and self were all gone. And so was her cat, come to think of it. Crookshanks had decided to come out from under the bed and make his presence known at some point during the night to Draco’s great annoyance. He hadn’t appreciated the cat attempting to take over the pillow by nudging, kneading and purring a lot, so he’d probably kicked it out.

Oh, well. It was a weekday and she should get up and ready for her classes. That was probably why Draco had left as well, so he could have time to change and get ready for school.

It had been surprisingly nice to sleep next to him, even though he never caved and had sex with her, even when he was all but gasping for air and trembling.

Still, it had been nice to be allowed to make him gasp for air and tremble. And then they’d wound it down and gone to sleep.

She’d never slept with anyone like this before. She’d slept in the same room as Ron a few times, but not under the same covers, snuggling. It was nice. She approved. She needed to do that again soon.

Maybe if Draco hated his dorm so much, he could be persuaded to come spend his nights here in spite of her cat? It wasn’t like people didn’t expect him to stay out all night anyway. They could sleep and snog and maybe eventually... She grinned. Oh, yes. She definitely had to propose this plan to him. Today. Later. After she’d had a shower to make sure she still smelled fresh.

* * *

Soft lips against lips. Moist, hot breath against skin. Hands seeking out anywhere they could reach. Round, perky breasts begging to be tasted. Lovely, shapely legs, opening, inviting him in. Damp knickers being moved to the side, allowing him to feel with just a couple of fingers the heated centre he was so desperate to explore in so many ways. Squirming, moaning, whimpering. She made that sound and he looked up to see her thoughtful, brown eyes looking almost startled as she climaxed under him.

Draco braced his arms against the cool tiles on the wall, allowing the hot water to wash over him. He never got any further than this before he had to give in to his own climax. He tried not to fantasise about her, but half the time it was just so damn impossible.

Something had to change. Soon. He knew what the obvious change would be, but he couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t. It wouldn’t be what she wanted and he didn’t want it all to end up being one big hot mess, not when he was already so self-conscious about his own lack of experience. The lack of any real experience. Of course, he could tell her about his dilemma, but then she’d stop wanting him and there’d be no more snogging sessions. She wanted the skilled sex god experience, not the fumbling virgin experience.

He could only give her the latter. Every time he thought he had it down and could fake it through, something happened to either bring him too close too soon or quite frankly scare him.

It was impossible.

Damn Pansy for spreading that false rumour and damn every single girl who’d decided to play along without actually sleeping with him. He’d never wanted to go this long without actually having sex, but he simply wasn’t that much of a natural charmer. Most of the time their shallowness disgusted him and he was perhaps a tiny bit cruel if they decided to be coy.

He needed to lose it and fast. Could he learn to at least hold it back a little longer in one night? He had to. He needed this chance to be with Granger before she either found someone better suited or decided it wasn't worth the effort. He needed to fulfil this fantasy.

Maybe if he went for someone known to be rather... fickle, and turned on all his most insincere charm, he could get this done in a matter of days. Hell, he wasn’t opposed to getting the witch expensive gifts if only she would help him with this aggravating dilemma.

It was time to take some action.

* * *

Hermione pouted down at the parchment in her hand. She’d sent Draco a note, suggesting he come to her room later, but he’d sent this back, declining.

“I can’t tonight. Something’s come up. I’ll let you know when I have time.”

What was that supposed to mean? Something had come up? What? Something preventing him from sleeping?

Why, oh, why was he always running away, no matter how well he liked what they did? It was annoying and a pointless waste of time. She’d even been very good about not pressuring him too hard about having sex last night, at least if she had to say so herself.

Silly boy.

She supposed that meant she had to go hunt him down and seduce him again.

Hunting him down would be easy enough. She’d merely play the stalker and follow him after dinner to confront him about his silliness.

She rolled up the note and went down to the Great Hall to do just that.

It turned out she barely had time to eat before he decided to leave. She raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe he truly did have something he needed to do. Nevertheless, she followed him out at a moderate distance. This happened to be a good thing, because it gave her time to duck behind a suit of armour when someone called out to him.

“Oy, Draco! Where are you off to now?”

It was a Slytherin boy unknown to Hermione. Probably a regular seventh-year.

“Homework,” Draco said, patting the bag that Hermione had somehow missed he was wearing. “I have several assignments to do.”

“Ah, good luck with that,” the other boy said, disappearing into the Great Hall.

Huh. Homework. So he was going to the library? And that was an obstacle to seeing her... how?

This became sillier by the second.

She decided to follow him to his destination and then scold him well.

Besides, it was kind of fun to follow him without him knowing about it. Fun, but also slightly troublesome. She fell behind on several long stairs and hallways where she didn’t dare to enter until he’d turned a corner and thus almost lost him twice.

It took her longer than it should have to realise he wasn’t even going near the library. In fact, he continued up a few more floors and went the complete opposite direction. Hermione began getting a really bad feeling about where he was going and why. She should probably turn around and let him go about his business, but now that she knew something was off, she couldn’t let it go.

Even when she realised what office he was going to.

He could use that office for other things, really. It had a desk. Maybe he merely liked being undisturbed. He went in, leaving the door open, and she ducked into the room on the other side of the hallway.

It turned out it wasn’t so much a room as a cupboard with cleaning supplies that looked like they could use a fair bit of cleaning themselves.

Now what? What was she doing? This was stupid.

She’d almost decided to go out and announce her presence when she peeked through some cracks in the boards that made up the door and saw that Draco had come back out into the hallway. Seeing him made her hesitate. Maybe it was simply better to slip off once he couldn’t see her. It would certainly be less embarrassing.

He checked his watch and impatiently sighed and looked down the hallway. “You’re late.”

Who was he talking to?

“I’m sorry,” a female voice responded, making Hermione stiffen. “It’s quite new for you to take me up on my invitations.”

“Better late than never, right?” Draco said, but there was a marked change in him. He didn’t look or sound impatient any longer, instead he looked... flirty? Hermione felt like she was going to be sick.

“Mm... Before we go any further, I heard some rumours...”

He reached out to tuck a lock of the girl’s hair behind her ear. “What about?”

“You and the Head Girl.”

He shook his head. “Nothing there.”

“Really?” the girl asked. “You’re talking to the expert in sneaking around here.”

He laughed. “All right. I need better marks and she needs... well, let’s just say it’s a mutually satisfactory arrangement. And non-exclusive.”

Hermione realised she was hurting herself with how hard she was grabbing onto the door frame and made an effort to relax. He wasn’t lying. Apart from him not actually being willing to go the last step, she supposed that was exactly the kind of arrangement they had.

There was no need to feel this hurt about his dismissal. He was something temporary before she finally made up her mind about Ron, that was it. What did she care if he scoffed at last night and tried to kiss this girl?

The girl cocked her head. “Why did you ask me up here, Draco?”

He bestowed that charming half-smile of his on her. “Because I realised you had the most stunning eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“My eyes?”

“Yes...” he said. “I’ve always been partial to blue eyes.”

Every word was a punch to Hermione’s gut. She’d known the thing with the eyes had been a line. She’d known all along. But why had he needed to lie to her like that? Didn’t the boy have a heart?

“Just my eyes, then, huh?” the girl teased, but she’d gone closer to Draco and didn’t seem to mind his antics at all.

“No, not just,” he said in what was little more than a whisper. “You’re very pretty. Did you know that?”

“Why don’t you tell me more about it?” she replied.

He smiled and whispered, “Why don’t you enter my office and I’ll tell you exactly how pretty you are?”

The girl smiled. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

“And I hoped we could stop talking,” he said and then he kissed her.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, not wanting to hear anything else. Her stomach was in a violent uproar and she felt a telling pressure behind her nose and eyes that she didn’t want to acknowledge. This was Draco Malfoy. This was why she was trying to get into bed with him in the first place. This was what she’d signed up for.

Slightly shaking, she opened her eyes and peeked out again to see that they were gone and the office door was closed.

Without further ado, she hurriedly opened the cupboard door and fled the area, heading blindly for somewhere she’d be guaranteed to neither see nor hear Draco Malfoy for as long as it took her to get rid of these irrational feelings of hurt and betrayal.

* * *

Draco softly closed the door behind them and looked at the girl of the day. Her name was Jenny something-or-other and he’d always thought she was pretty, but something about her had annoyed him enough that he hadn’t wanted to get involved with her. Tonight she would do. Tonight was all about getting this over with, so he could sate his burning lust for Hermione Granger without being completely humiliated or pissing her off.

“Charming place,” Jenny said after inspecting the room. “You bring all your girls here?”

“Only the ones that turn me on,” he said, taking a few steps closer to her.

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Want to go somewhere else?” he asked, cupping her chin. “Because we could. Where do you want to go? How can I make you be with me?”

He was making himself nauseous with all these lines.

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Silly boy. I’ve wanted to be with you for months.”

He smiled, certain that the insincerity of his expression was seeping through his eyes, but still attempting to keep up appearances. “You should’ve let me know, then.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a subtle hint.” She pouted.

Then stop being so damn subtle and go for what you want!

He maintained his smile. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now.”

“That we are,” she whispered and drew down his head for another kiss.

He waited for all his pent-up lust to surface. Nothing.

All he felt was warm lips against his own. Lips that he was completely uninterested in.

Frowning, he attempted to deepen the kiss, to see if that helped, but even though she willingly opened up to him... still nothing. He was as sexually aroused as he had ever been during a History of Magic lesson on an early Monday morning.

Maybe he’d picked the wrong girl? Or maybe it was simply this whole idea of forcing himself through an encounter he didn’t care about in order to have one he did want that left him cold?

Either way, it seemed that he couldn’t do this.

Sighing, he broke the kiss. “Right. I have to go.”

“What?” She stared at him. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Why?”

He considered giving her the blunt truth but then decided it was hardly her fault that he was suddenly feeling impotent. “There was something I forgot to do, I guess.”

“And it can’t wait?”

“No.”

“All right, but when—”

“I don’t blame you for being angry at me,” he cut her off, edging back towards the door. “What, really, with me leading you on like this and then simply walking off again. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, I understand. I’m quite certain you can do better. Best of luck!” Then he hurriedly let himself out and strode down the hall with big steps, hoping she wouldn’t pursue him.

Damn. What now? He’d really thought he could do this, so he didn’t even have a backup plan.

He supposed he could still try to fake it, but all his experience with snogging Hermione at length told him that it wouldn’t be a success. No matter how much he tried to see to matters beforehand, she always knew exactly how to turn him upside down and inside out and make him burn with need. He wouldn’t last two minutes like that.

That left one last undesirable option: Honesty.

Chances were that she’d completely reject sleeping with him once he told her that he wasn’t able to live up to the reason she was pursuing him.

But then again, she already knew he hadn’t slept with a lot of girls and didn’t seem to mind. Maybe she’d let him have a few goes until he got it right?

No, she probably wouldn’t. She was only interested in doing it once. She wanted to get rid of her virginity so she could get back with her precious Weasley.

Why should it even matter to her if it was any good when that was all she wanted?

Apart from a normal desire to enjoy the sex, of course.

He hardly even knew what he was on about any longer. He was confused as hell about why he hadn’t wanted Jenny and why he was feeling so bitter about Hermione only wanting to do it once and only wanting to do it with someone experienced.

He’d better simply tell her and get it over with. Maybe then he could remember how to lust for someone else again.

He took a detour, aiming for her room and knocked without hesitation as soon as he reached it. There was no answer, so he tried again.

“Hermione?” he called. “It’s me. Could you perhaps open up?”

Still no answer.

He knocked once more. “Hermione, if you’re there, I’d really like to talk to you! About... about us. Could you come to the door, please?”

No answer.

He tried the handle, but wasn’t surprised in the least to find it locked. She must be out, then. She’d never ignored him before, so why would she start now?

Because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to check, he went to check the library, only to find it completely abandoned.

Resigning himself to having to wait to resolve this, he decided to call it a day and seek her out in the morning instead.

* * *

Hermione sat blindly staring at Gryffindor common room’s fireplace. Some younger students were noisily playing wizard chess to her left and Ginny was sitting in a chair, looking at her, to her right.

She supposed she should come up with some kind of excuse to be here.

“What happened?” Ginny finally asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Why did anything have to happen?”

“Because this is the first time you’ve been here without an actual reason.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know any boys that might want to go out with me?”

Ginny blinked, taken aback. “I assume you mean beside my brother.”

“Yes. Someone here, at this school.”

“I don’t think anyone mentioned you specifically, but I don’t see why anyone would be opposed to going out with you.”

“I do. Because I’m the Head Girl. Because I’m older than everyone else. Because I have a reputation for being a dull swot with no sense of fun.”

“Considering that you’ve recently decided to drink at parties rather than break them up and report them, I’d say you’ve successfully countered the ‘dull swot with no sense of fun’ bit. I don’t see why age should be a problem either, or your Head Girl status for that matter.”

“So you think you can find me a date?”

“Um, certainly. Why do you need one?”

Hermione looked down at her hands. “Just do.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with whoever messed up your clothes that night?”

Oh, crap. Hermione had forgotten that Ginny had seen her come back one time. “Yes and no. He’s out of the picture.”

“But...?”

“But I don’t want him to think that I’m sitting around, missing him. I’ve had enough of that.”

“Ah. So, that kind of date.”

“No, it would be a real date. I’m open for anything to happen. Anything.”

“Out of curiosity, what did this mystery boy do?”

“Nothing, really...” Because he hadn’t. He’d made a point of stressing that they were non-exclusive from the start. She’d merely made stupid assumptions since she hadn’t seen him with anyone else before that. “He simply wanted someone else more than me.” That was also the truth. Based on what she’d heard, it seemed fairly obvious that he was having sex right now, even though he kept refusing to have sex with her.

“Did he cheat on you?” Ginny quietly asked.

Hermione gave a half-hearted snort. “You have to be together for someone to cheat. You can’t cheat on someone you’re only having a bit of fun with. Or someone you’re technically broken up with, for that matter.” She realised her bitterness was beginning to show and quickly amended. “I was getting tired of him anyway.”

Ginny looked as if she had a hard time forming her next question. “Did Ron cheat on you?”

“No. We weren’t together.”

“But he did have someone else?”

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to turn Ginny against her brother. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does, doesn’t it? That’s why you can’t forgive him. That’s why you got involved with another cheater.”

“No.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I was stupid. I thought I wouldn’t care if he saw other witches. Turns out that I do, and it’s my own bloody fault.”

“Maybe if you told him that?”

Hermione laughed without humour. “What? Tell him that he was right that I can’t handle that kind of relationship without becoming jealous? No, thank you. It would be humiliating and it would still be over. Neither of us ever meant to get involved and I don’t even want to be involved with him.”

Ginny slowly nodded. “So... you want a date.”

“Yes. As fast as possible. Oh, and if he’s cute, it’s a plus.”

“And it’s not at all designed to make Mystery Boy jealous?”

Hermione snorted, this time with a bit of humour. “I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid. He’ll shrug and go bonk someone else.”

“I see,” Ginny muttered. “Well, it may be doable. I know of someone else who could use a nice rebound fling. I suppose you don't care that he's a little younger?”

“Ginny, everyone at this school is younger than me.”

"Oh. Right. Not a problem, then!"

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 5/10

2012-04-17T22:50:02Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,684

* * *

She was pouting again. Draco smothered a laugh. Whenever she was denied sex, Hermione really acted like a child denied sweets. It was almost cute. He couldn’t even be annoyed with it. In fact, the way she pushed her bottom lip out was nothing if not an invitation.

He ran his thumb over that lip. It was so lush and soft. He wanted to bite it. “If you don’t want me to snog you, all you have to do is say so,” he said.

“When did I ever say that?” she immediately objected.

“You act like it’s some kind of poor consolation prize.”

“It’s a consolation prize, but not a poor one,” she assured him. “I only wish...”

“Ah-ah. I told you not to keep pushing.”

She made a frustrated growl. “Why don’t you kiss me already?”

He laughed and did as asked, bending over to press his lips against hers. They were exactly as soft as they’d felt, but he already knew that. He tried to steel himself as best as he could—and it was considerably easier this time as he’d had the foresight to relieve some tension before coming here—but he still couldn’t help but react to her mere presence. She was such a sexual being that simply being around her drove him half out of his mind with lust.

She put her arms around his neck and tilted her head back, opening up to his probing tongue. He really liked the taste of her. But then again, he liked the taste of most girls. Once, he’d told Pansy she tasted sweet and she’d laughed at him, saying she most likely tasted like saliva. It had thrown him completely out of his tender mood and he hadn’t bothered saying any such thing again. Maybe sweet hadn’t been the right word, but he didn’t know what else was.

Hermione didn’t taste sweet. She tasted like sunshine and passion.

He let his hand run down her collarbone, across the side of her lovely, firm breast to her waist, and down her thigh. She moaned and arched into his touch. She was wearing a damned skirt again. She knew what those things did to him and that was probably why. He knew for a fact that she hadn’t worn one earlier in the day. He hesitated at the edge of the skirt with two fingers on her warm skin, but then he slowly slipped his whole hand up under it, feeling her smooth thigh under his palm.

Her grip on his head became firmer, her kiss more insistent. He willingly followed her lead, slowly edging his hand further up under her skirt and feeling his temperature rising with each inch.

Suddenly she made a frustrated sound and swung herself up on his lap.

Startled, he removed his hand. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“We’re still wearing clothes,” she muttered, trying to kiss him, but he turned his head away. He needed to have a clear enough head to think. Shrugging, she ran her lips over his cheek and neck, down to his shoulder instead.

Her legs were spread over his thighs. He could feel the warmth between them teasing him.

“You’re pushing it,” he groaned.

“I know... Please don’t be mad. I need to feel you...” She ran her hands up and down his chest outside his shirt. “Can I open this?”

He shook his head. “No...”

“Please... You know what it’s like to need to touch skin, otherwise you wouldn’t have touched me like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Under the skirt. Against your own rules.”

“You could’ve stopped me.”

“I didn’t want to. You knew I wouldn’t stop you.”

He did. He also knew that if he flipped her over right now and took her right there on this old sofa, she wouldn’t stop him. It drove him insane. He swallowed. He wanted to touch her thigh again.

“Just your chest,” she whispered. “I’ll stay out of your trousers unless you ask me to do otherwise.”

But what if he did ask her? At the rate this was going, he wouldn’t hold out for much longer. “All right...”

He didn’t know why he’d said that. He’d meant to say no. At least he thought he’d meant to say no.

This was all so very confusing. He couldn’t seem to keep his head straight.

She slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling a bit and biting her lip. He was painfully aroused and knew she could tell from her current position, but he didn’t do anything to either aid or stop her. Finally, his shirt was completely open and she ran her hands up and down his naked chest, making him moan with the physical contact. He didn’t think he could get any more worked up, even if he tried.

“You have a nice chest,” she whispered, before kissing his neck and his collarbone.

He made a short laugh. “I doubt it’s that special.” In fact, he knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t really that athletic and he couldn’t be arsed to do much more than watch his weight and occasionally take a few more stairs than he had to.

“I don’t know if it’s special, but it’s appealing,” she muttered against his skin, making his entire being vibrate. This was nuts. Much more of this and he’d go off.

He gently pushed her far enough away for some of the fog in his brain to clear. “You need to slow things down,” he said, “or we’ll have to stop for today.”

“No,” she whimpered, squirming a little in his lap, making him dig his fingers into her thigh through her skirt. “I’ll be good.”

She was good. That was the problem. Every look, every touch, even every breath seemed designed to turn him on. He pulled her close for another kiss. It felt so different when she was sitting like this on his lap and his shirt was open. Much more intimate. It was so easy to let one’s hands roam and to press a hand against her bum so she’d press against him and give a bit of relief for the briefest second.

She gasped against his lips and then began squirming even more. It was torture, but he couldn’t for the life of him ask her to stop. It felt too good. She was slowly gyrating her hips, massaging him with her weight, driving him closer to the edge.

He found that his hand had moved under her skirt again and was moving dangerously close to somewhere warm and damp. He should end this now. Stop it before they reached the point of no return. He lightly brushed a couple of fingers across the front of her knickers and she cried out and grabbed onto his shoulders like she was in danger of falling.

He probably shouldn’t do that.

He did it again and she let her head fall down and whimpered against his neck whilst moving against him in a much more intense way. It felt so damn good.

“Stop,” he grunted, feeling the pressure build. “Hermione... no...”

“Please don’t make me stop,” she whispered. “Please... I need...”

“Kiss me,” he said. She complied. He grabbed her hip, forcing her movements to stop and then touched her between the legs again, this time more firmly, and she tensed and made a sound that sounded mostly like a broken sob and shivered. He could feel the muscles contracting under his hand and it was extremely hard to not imagine what it would feel like around him.

He tried to strangle his own moan. She only had to breathe on him right and he’d be completely gone. He needed to stop right here. He couldn’t believe how far out of hand things had got this time.

He carefully set her aside and began buttoning his shirt. “This was exactly what I was afraid of,” he said once her breathing had returned to normal.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I know, but what do you think will happen when you push for more and more and more all the time?”

He wasn’t really upset, only frustrated. The image, feel and sound of her climax would haunt him for a very, very long time. Not to mention the scent. Oh, god, the scent. It was on him. He tried his very best to ignore it to no avail.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Malfoy. I’d be more than happy to please you in any way you see fit, but for some reason you don’t want that at all, even though you like to play with the fire. I know you were close just now. I know you only touched me so you wouldn’t come yourself. Why is that?”

“I told you. I don’t want sex with you.”

“It was only a bit of rubbing. I’m certain that doesn’t qualify as sex for most people.”

“Then I’m not most people.”

“Is it pregnancy you’re afraid of? I know several very good spells and—”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Why won’t you tell me what it is, then?”

“Because it’s nothing you can fix.” Besides, the whole point was that he didn't want her to know.

“Bigotry, then?”

“If that’s what you prefer to think.”

“It doesn’t fit.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Bigotry.”

“It was your suggestion, not mine.”

“I mean, I understand why you wouldn’t want to be involved with me, but I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to use me.”

“That sounds so charming.”

“I’m serious, Draco. Use me. I want to be used.”

Why did she have to be the one to tell him this? Why? Almost any other witch and he’d be dragging her to bed right that minute. "You're one odd witch, Granger."

"I'm not odd. I simply know what I want. And I want to see the look on your face when you—"

"Not going to happen."

"It almost did happen, didn't it?"

He snorted. "No, are you kidding me? I'm too sore for that. What with all the grinding..." He was sore, but he would still have come. That didn't mean he wanted her to know it, though.

"Then let me soothe it." She got to her feet and went over to him.

"And how would you plan on doing that?"

"I could kiss it better..."

A small jolt went through him and he couldn't help but imagine her, on her knees, taking him into her mouth and... "No, Granger! And until you learn a thing or two about boundaries, I'm calling this off." He was practically shaking with need.

She sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I simply don't... understand."

"You don't need to understand someone's decision to respect it."

She nodded. "Again, you're right."

Her agreement annoyed him to no end. Yes, she was pushy, but he was partaking quite a bit himself! Why didn't she point that out rather than shoulder all the blame? Why didn't she call attention to his double standard of wanting to feel up her legs and blaming her for wanting to feel up his chest? Why didn't she insist that they continue down this road to hell?

With a frustrated grunt, he turned away from her and walked out the door.

* * *

Hermione was still feeling a bit woozy from what had happened, so when Draco left, her first action was to sit back down.

Well, that was one confusing boy, to be sure.

He reacted to her, no doubt about it. He reacted to her touches and her kisses, and she was fairly certain he'd reacted to her surprise orgasm as well. She'd thought she'd felt him grab her tighter and heard him make a sound.

He was as out of his mind with lust as she was, and he clearly wanted more. Why else would he have touched her in that way, making it almost impossible for her to do anything but beg him to finish it?

Yet he remained adamant in his refusal to take the last step or, really, any step that would result in his own climax. Why was that? She was extremely certain that he was able to do the deed and, in fact, would very much enjoy it. She also knew that he was neither seeing anyone nor seemed very interested in any one particular witch.

It had to have something to do with her and she probably couldn't fix it. Maybe it was her blood or the power imbalance; she didn't know, but it was enough to make him dig in his heels.

It was too bad. Based on what had happened here today, she thought it would be quite the experience to take the last step.

Sighing, she got to her feet and began walking back to her room. She could probably use a shower, but she was tired and would probably go with a nap first. It wasn't every day she went for such a mental and physical rollercoaster ride.

"There you are!" Ginny seemed to appear out of thin air not far from Hermione’s room. "Whoa, and I can see what you were doing..."

Hermione didn't doubt that her lips were swollen, her hair and clothes were a mess, and that she was slightly stumbling. "What is it, Ginny?"

"I'll tell you right after you tell me what you're up to."

Hermione grinned. "I thought you said you could see that."

"But... am I right? Am I really right?" Ginny looked like her eyes would pop out of her skull any second.

"Relax, Ginny. It's nothing serious. Just a bit of fun."

"Uh-huh. With who?" Ginny was certainly nosy today.

"Now that is none of your business."

"I hate to ask you this but I really must know—what about Ron?"

Hermione sighed. So much for having fun tonight. "I don't know yet, Ginny. That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Ok. I was looking for you because I thought you might want to know Harry's latest reply."

"Ah."

"Well, do you?"

"Does it concern me?"

"A bit." Ginny stopped as if unsure if she should go on. Then she hesitantly resumed. "He said he told Ron what you'd said about seeing others and Ron kind of... shut off."

"Shut off?"

"Yeah, you know him. He's probably sulking."

"Oh..." Hermione felt a little guilty but then pushed the feeling away. Why should she feel guilty that he had hurt her? She was not obligated to forgive him merely because he was sorry! Right now, she was doing her best to forget the hurt and pursue something that actually felt good and she'd be damned if she'd feel guilty about that!

"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad."

"I know."

"I simply thought you might want to know."

"Yes. Thank you." She tried her best not to be curt, but it was hard with all the emotions rolling around inside her.

"For what it's worth, I completely support your fun time,” Ginny continued. “I think everyone needs to have a fun time before settling down."

Hermione grinned. "Yeah? When was Harry's fun time?"

"Harry is the exception to an otherwise perfect rule," Ginny said without even blinking. "He'll get his fun time with me and nobody else."

Hermione laughed the rest of the way back to her room.

* * *

He was avoiding her. Hermione had to admit to some annoyance from that. So she’d climaxed when Draco had touched her between the legs—he honestly thought that was grounds to avoid her?

She wasn’t normally a violent person, but she could slap him right now.

Slapping him probably wouldn’t be very productive, though. She had to figure out a way to get what she wanted. Getting him alone would be the easy part, considering that they still had to go to the library together a couple of times.

She couldn’t dress any sexier than she already did. If anyone saw her, she’d be in big trouble. She also couldn’t throw herself at him more, because he was right about one thing—she was becoming too pushy. No, she had to think of another way.

That was easier said than done, however, and the next library meeting was soon staring her in the face.

Not much to be done for it, though, so she went with no real plan about what to say or do.

Of course, Draco was late. He always tended to be. Like he was dragging his feet to be with her.

It really annoyed her.

He hardly even acknowledged her presence but merely went to work. She felt her temper flare.

“Be careful with those!” she snapped when he dropped a book.

He eyed her warily. “Yes, Madam Granger.”

“And you’re staying until midnight.”

He stared at her. “I have an essay—”

“That’s really not my problem, is it?” she cut him off. “You should’ve thought about that before you were late every single time.”

“It’s only been by a few minutes!”

“Last time it was a half hour.”

“I couldn’t help that! I told you, Slughorn wanted me to—”

“That’s really not my problem either.”

He looked at her for a few moments and then shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”

“What would?”

“You’re angry that I finished it and are using your position to take it out on me.”

“That’s not what’s happening! I haven’t hounded you to be here when you shouldn’t or written poorly about you even once! All I’m asking is that you make up for lost time.”

“Then why can’t it wait until the weekend?”

Yes, why couldn’t it? Because she was in a bad mood, damn it, and he was right! “Fine,” she grumbled. “Stay longer Friday or be here Saturday, I don’t care. Just do the bloody work!”

His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “You’re pouting.”

She was, at that. She sighed. “I’m not feeling well, I think I’m going to go. You can do this alone for one night.”

“Go where?”

“To my room, where else?”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Well, I do have this essay, and since I haven’t got the faintest what to write, I was hoping you could be persuaded to help me...”

She stared at him. Was he serious? “Why?” And more importantly, how had he thought to persuade her through not even acknowledging her presence?

“Because you’re the smartest person I know, and I hoped you’d take the chance to lecture me on something.”

She snorted. “I’m not that bad!”

“I never said you were.”

“You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” she asked, feeling her annoyance seep away in the face of a chance to help someone gain knowledge.

He nodded, looking fairly displeased. “Yes, I am, actually. They’re saying they won’t let me take my exams if I don’t get better marks in this subject.”

“What subject is it?”

“Muggle Studies...”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Hey, I didn’t choose it. They forced it on me. So, can you help me?”

She sighed. Her head was aching and she could barely think. “Fine, come to my room when you’re done.”

“Your... why not here?”

“Because I plan on lying down for a bit. If you don’t want to come to my room, then don’t. If you do choose to come to my room, however, I promise you that you’ll leave with your virtue intact.”

Then she left without checking his response. She honestly didn’t care what it was. He was the one who wanted her help, and if he couldn’t be arsed to do anything for it, then she couldn’t be arsed to help him.

* * *

Draco stood scowling at the door for a good five minutes before he managed to lift his hand and knock. He didn’t know why he’d asked for her help, it had sort of just happened. Not that he didn’t need it—he very much did—but he still hadn’t meant to ask for it.

He’d figured she’d say no.

Why hadn’t she said no? Any other witch he knew would’ve declined helping someone who’d rejected them like he had. But of course Hermione Granger had to be different, didn’t she? She had to constantly surprise him and turn him on with her unpredictable ways. She had to go from being this annoying geek girl to being a determined and very sexy seductress, and she had to not only forgive the unforgivable of what he’d done last year, but agree to tutor him after everything.

If she had an agenda, he was unable to see what it could be. Was it really all because she wanted to sleep with him? There had to be others she could go to. He didn’t understand her claim that she was attracted to him at all. Why would such a clever witch be attracted to someone who’d once made it his life’s mission to make her and her friends miserable?

He knocked again.

Maybe she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t answer the door. That would probably be the best thing that could happen, because suddenly he’d remembered what she’d said about stripping naked to please herself on her bed, and he couldn’t get rid of those images. Entering that room would be a really bad idea.

She finally opened the door, yawning. She looked sleepy and rumpled.

“Were you asleep?” he asked. Stupid question, but his mental capacities were somewhat limited at the moment.

“Yes,” she replied, stepping back to let him in. “But it’s fine. I feel better now.”

“I can go...”

“When is your essay due?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Any particular reason why you waited until the last minute?” When he hesitated too long, she grabbed his arm and dragged him the last step in, and then closed the door behind him.

He half-stumbled in and was then staring right at her bed. Her bed. Where she...

He cleared his throat and half-turned to face her. “I tried to write it on my own, I really did. I simply don’t understand these things.”

“What things?” she sauntered over to sit down on her bed, motioning at him to sit down at her desk. Right. He was supposed to write. And she was supposed to... uh... talk. Yes, talk. About... things.

“It’s supposed to be about what a Muggle uses in his day to day life where we might use magic. I have some of the things written down. Like...” He opened his bag and rummaged until he found his notes and then read. “Instead of brooms, they use cycles or motorcars.”

“They don’t call them that.”

“Call what what?”

“You can get away with ‘cycles’ but it’s not ‘motorcars’, just ‘cars’.”

“But my book says—”

“Forget your book. It sounds awfully outdated.”

He scowled at her. “If my teacher gives me any grief, I’m referring her to you.”

“You do that. What else?”

“Instead of Floo, they use te... tel... teléphonos. No, wait, sorry, teléphonés.”

“It’s telephones.”

“Ah. But this is one, right?” He got his book and showed her a picture of an old phone with a dial.

“Uh, technically, yes.”

“So, how does it really work? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand how someone’s voice will travel like that without magic.”

“Muggles don’t need magic. They have physics and science, not to mention electricity.”

He wrote that down. He didn’t quite understand what she meant by it, but it sounded clever and he had to write something. “Could you explain to me how science works?”

She made a sound that sounded like a cross between a groan and a laugh and fell back on her bed—curse her!—saying, “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

It certainly was.

* * *

Hermione stretched, not caring what it looked like that she was squirming around in the middle of her bed. She was tired and had been answering questions and had pieces of this essay read back to her for a full hour now.

The time wasn’t completely wasted, though. For one thing, it was always amusing to experience how ignorant certain wizards and witches were about Muggles. For another, she’d caught him glancing at her more than once and he had that look in his eyes. He might not want to act on it, and that was perfectly fine, but she thrived on the knowledge that he did, in fact, want her.

It made her feel sexy. She liked feeling sexy.

“What are you looking so smug about?” he asked. He’d stopped writing and had turned all his attention to her.

The grin she hadn’t known she was wearing widened. “You did come to my room.”

“For homework.”

“I don’t care why.”

“If I recall correctly, I only said there wouldn’t be any... pleasuring... here.”

“Oh, but this is pleasing my brains. And you do know what they say about the brain.”

“No, what do they say about the brain?”

“That it’s the largest erogenous zone.”

He stared at her. “You know, that actually makes sense. You’re completely warping the concept, of course, but unwarped, it makes sense.”

“That’s why they say it. And I don’t mind being warped.” She winked at him.

His lips twisted as if he were fighting a grin. “No, I think I figured that one out for myself.”

She laughed at his dry tone of voice. “Relax, Malfoy. I’m not out to get you.”

“Aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her as he got to his feet. “Because, honestly, I don’t know why else you’d be showing yourself off like this.”

She smiled. “I’m comfortable, that’s all. You woke me from a very pleasant dream and I helped you with your essay. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I’m allowed to be comfortable.”

“I am very grateful for your help.” He came closer to the bed.

She didn’t know what he was up to, but she felt disinclined to stop smiling. “And exactly how grateful would that be?”

“Very grateful.”

“Uh-huh?” She didn’t have to look down his frame to know he wanted her very much right now. It was written all over his face. He was obviously waiting for her to make a move, but she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Not this time.

“Is there some way I can repay you?” he asked in a slightly hoarser voice when he realised she wasn't going to offer herself up without some effort on his part.

“If you were going to use snogging as an incentive for me to help you, you should probably have offered it before I volunteered,” she teased.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed, slightly turned to still face her.

She wished he’d climb on top of her, but figured the odds of that happening were slim to none. She would simply have to make do with whatever she could get.

“What are you staring at?” she asked after a few moments of him contemplating her visage. Or, more plainly put, staring her in the face.

“You have the most stunning eyes I've ever seen,” he said.

She snorted. “You don’t have to do that, Draco. I have the handbook, remember?”

“No. You do. I’ve always had a weakness for girls with brown eyes.”

In spite of telling herself that he was only using a line, Hermione felt her heartbeat speed up. What a silly thing to get affected by. “Oh. What about hair, then? Are you going to tell me you always had a preference for girls with brown, curly hair as well?”

“No. I don’t have a hair preference. And you need to learn how to take a compliment, Hermione.”

He almost purred her name, making her react again—this time she even felt a bit of heat in her cheeks. She scowled at him. “I’m very good at taking compliments, I’ll have you know.”

“Not this one.”

“Because you never spent a lot of time looking at my eyes. You much prefer my legs. Occasionally my mouth. And when you think I don’t notice, my breasts.”

“That’s because I spend a lot of time around you being randy.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness.

“You also have a pretty smile,” he continued.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“See? You’re rubbish at taking compliments. I’ve called you pretty more than once and you always ignore it. I figured it was because you saw it as your due, but that’s not it, is it?”

“You really don’t have to feed me lines, Malfoy.”

“The truth is a line now?”

“You said it yourself—you’re randy. You’d never have called me pretty before I began trying to seduce you.”

“Not to your face, no. But do you really think your antics would’ve worked at all if I weren’t attracted to you?”

“Yes.”

He sat back and gave her an odd look. “Really?”

She decided she might as well give him the whole speech. “We’re at a very hormonal stage of our physical development. If my sexual attributes were presented in an appealing way to you, you shouldn’t give a fig about the rest of the package, as long as I didn’t try to present that as appealing to you as well.”

“Meaning?”

She grinned. “If I showed off my boobs to the best of their advantage and didn’t try to act like girlfriend material, it should make you want to go for it.”

He laughed. “You really are something.”

“I know.”

“So you don’t think you’re pretty?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what did you say?”

“I’m proud of most of my attributes. I merely see no reason why you’d suddenly call me pretty after giving me grief about my looks for years.”

He pursed his lips. “Ah. That.”

“Yes, that.”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean it?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I guess I did. Would you believe me if I said I merely never saw the potential?”

“I could believe that.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve now seen the potential and it’s making it impossible to look away again?”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

He shook his head, his eyes smiling. “So defensive.”

“You’d have been better off merely telling me how much you enjoy kissing me. That’s an indisputable fact.”

He laughed again. “I do enjoy kissing you.”

“I know. That’s why you’re feeding me lines. So I’ll once more take the initiative, and you won’t have to take responsibility for the kiss.”

That seemed to take him aback. “Is that what you think?” he muttered. And then he bent down and kissed her. It was only a gentle touching of lips, but it still had her heart pounding in anticipation. Her breath caught and she felt his smile against her lips. Drat! But he didn't comment. Rather, his lips lingered and then moved, parting her lips, making her world buzz with electricity.

She'd have to amend the statement that only Muggles had electricity.

He was so good at this. Too good. Always such a tease.

She put her arms around his neck and tried to pull him down, but he was firmly braced above her. It was maddening. She'd all but given up when she felt his weight shift onto only one arm and his other hand glide up her hip and under her shirt to reach her belly and her chest.

Hermione approved. Hermione approved very much. She arched into his hand and he acknowledged it with a light squeeze but otherwise preferred to massage around any sensitive areas without actually touching them. It was driving her mad and she needed to feel skin now.

Without hesitation she reached down to pull up his shirt, making him break the kiss, undoubtedly to object.

"Shut up," she rasped. "I'll get at least this much."

He pursed his lips. "I was only going to say that I'm ticklish, so you should watch those fingertips of yours. Otherwise..." He kissed her again. "Carry on." He nipped at her lip and then stroked it with his tongue to soothe it, before deepening the kiss again.

She didn't need to have that repeated. She had his shirt open in no time. She then dragged him towards her, making him lose his balance and fall onto the bed, before she slung her leg around his hip and began greedily running her hands up and down his chest, trying very much to avoid tickling him in the spots that made him jump and twitch. She enjoyed feeling his heat, his heartbeat and his growing arousal very much. Right now, she wasn't alone in this and it felt wicked.

He moved his hand and she felt her bra give way to warm fingers, making all kinds of intense feelings rush forward.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 4/10

2012-04-17T22:43:46Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 6,391

* * *

Feeling slightly more human after breakfast, Hermione went to the library. She didn’t really need to go, but it was her safe place. A place where she could be largely alone without ever feeling the same kind of loneliness she did in her room. She especially liked being in the back, surrounded by knowledge everywhere.

“She’s bad news.”

Hermione stopped at the sound of Pansy Parkinson’s voice, telling someone all the ways that some Muggle-born could ruin their life.

She had a fairly good idea who Pansy was talking about and who she was talking to. It was soon confirmed when she heard his voice.

Was this really how they saw her? As some big threat? Bigoted reasons aside, Pansy seemed genuinely concerned that she might become vindictive towards Malfoy. Come to think of it, Malfoy kept saying the same things.

The conversation seemed to be over and Hermione had to duck in between bookcases in order to avoid the rapid footsteps moving towards her.

Now what to do? Malfoy hadn’t agreed openly with Pansy, but maybe that was simply because he’d been annoyed with her. He’d certainly sounded that way. Hermione would never abuse her position the way it had been implied time and again that she would, but if Malfoy thought she would and that was the only reason he’d kissed her...

The kiss. He’d given every indication that he didn’t want to do it and didn’t want to continue it. Oh, she’d been so stupid. If the roles had been reversed, she would have hexed his bits off. The only thing keeping him from doing something similar must be fear of the repercussions.

Now she did feel some of the shame Draco had wanted her to feel earlier. She hadn’t taken his objections seriously at the time and had basically harassed him. She was also disappointed. How could she continue her pursuit like this? She couldn’t. She had to stop. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from between the stacks of books and walked towards where the steps had originated a few minutes ago.

“Malfoy?” she said when his back came into her vision a few seconds later.

He immediately stiffened and she flinched.

“Yeah?” he cautiously asked without turning.

“I’m... I’m sorry about last night,” she muttered. “I’d like to blame the alcohol, but we both know that wouldn’t be true.”

Now he did slowly turn. “You’re apologising? Why?”

“I didn’t mean to force you.”

“I don’t recall you holding me down.”

“There are other ways to force...”

“So you heard her, huh.” He didn’t seem overly surprised.

She flushed. She hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping, after all. “She didn’t say anything you’ve not already tried to say to me.”

“Except she vastly exaggerated.”

“Maybe an exaggeration was what I needed to hear.”

He turned back to his homework and wearily rubbed the spot between his eyes with two fingers. “Far be it from me to encourage you to continue to torment me, Granger, but you didn’t force me last night.”

Maybe it was a male pride thing? “All right. But I’ll take a hint and back off. When I ignore your wishes like that, it’s almost sexual assault.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost. You’re fairly aggressive yourself, so unless you want to admit to assaulting half the female population around here...”

“Almost it is, then!”

“I thought so.”

* * *

“So... you’re really going to stop?” Draco asked when Granger didn’t seem inclined to continue talking.

“I’ll even wear trousers.”

He pondered that for a bit. He should be relieved, but he kind of liked looking at her legs. True, it left him far too frustrated to be comfortable, but those were nice legs. “Good,” he said without conviction.

“And I’ll remember to wear a bra every day.”

“I... don’t think I noticed if you didn’t.” Which was odd. He usually noticed if someone’s breasts bounced like that. He couldn’t see how he could’ve missed it.

“Oh, that mostly happens in the summer. It gets so hot.”

“Uh-huh.” He shifted his legs a bit so she wouldn’t see how she was beginning to affect him again. He suddenly missed summertime.

“And I won’t try to show off that new set of black lace underwear I got with garters and—”

“No need to be so specific!”

She grinned impishly. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

He could picture it a bit too vividly. How could the Head Girl fool everyone into thinking she was the epitome of virtue when she was really so, so naughty? “You can wear anything you like,” he finally said.

“Of course I can, but—”

“I’m not saying you should keep wearing skimpy clothes. I’m saying, wear whatever comes natural to you. It’s not like I’m allergic to your legs and will perish if you wear a skirt even once.”

“But that’s the thing, Malfoy. Around you, I’m going to want to show off skin to seduce you.”

“Why? Why me?” He really didn’t understand this. Why must she torment him so?

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I find you sexy.”

“What?” He stared. His heart had begun pounding and he felt some of that blood flood into his cheeks. Damn it! Damn her! He’d thought he’d learned to master these blushes!

“Why so surprised?”

“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”

“No, Draco, I’m really not. You’re like the ultimate fantasy. The experienced Bad Boy, who’ll love you and leave you, thus introducing no reality into the mix.”

He groaned aloud. Just with words, she had once again managed to get him going, but there was one word in her last statement that made it all impossible, even if other circumstances had made it possible. One word. His constant curse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, cocking her head.

“I can’t do it. I can’t sleep with you.”

“I know. That’s why I said I’d stop.”

But he didn’t want her to!

The realisation left him a little disoriented. If he didn’t want her to stop, then why... had he wanted her to stop? He knew he couldn’t sleep with her and being around her made him frustrated like nothing else could.

He supposed it could be an ego thing. It was nice to have a girl call him sexy and try to seduce him, even if it frustrated him to no end. It certainly didn’t hurt that he really wanted her body and had dozens of fantasies about what he’d like to do with it. Fantasies he couldn’t seem to squash.

“Last night...” he hesitantly began.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No. Last night... you said something.”

“What?”

“That we could just do what I wanted to do and nothing more.”

“Yes? What about that?”

“Are you...” He hesitated, unsure whether he was opening himself up to a world of trouble. “Are you still up to that?”

* * *

Hermione’s eyes widened and she swallowed? Had he asked what she thought he’d asked? The tingle in her entire body suggested yes. “Why?” she croaked and then cleared her throat. “I mean... is this merely you trying to be in charge?”

“No sex, Hermione. No exclusive relationship. And if I tell you not to touch me in a certain way or not sit next to me in class, you will do that—although if you should feel like helping me with a few assignments in private, I certainly wouldn’t turn that down.”

“That doesn’t accomplish my goal of losing my virginity.”

“No... Not technically. But I have a feeling it’s better that way. Besides, I said this isn’t exclusive. You’re free to lose it to someone else on the side. This thing... is only if you tell the truth and you actually want to.”

She was tempted. Really tempted. But she didn’t cherish the idea of letting Draco call the shots. Still... she could get some of what she wanted for a relatively small price. And she could always end it if he was too controlling. “Fine,” she finally said. “But only if you agree to a few terms of my own.”

“Like what?”

“Like I have a say in when and where. And you don’t cancel our meetings to be with other girls at those times. Schedule around it.”

“Girls really don’t like to come second, do they? I, for one, won’t care if you cancel to be with another bloke.”

“Good to know.”

“But, Granger?”

“Yeah?”

“No sex. I mean it.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. One of these days she really had to get him to give her a straight answer about why he was so insistent on not having sex. For now, however, she was pleased at the prospect of at least not being completely rejected.

* * *

Hermione wrinkled her nose and looked around at the old dilapidated office. It didn’t look like it had been used for years or cleaned for months.

“I have a private room, you know,” she said. “And it’s outside the tower. Anyone I invite can enter.”

“I know. We aren’t going to your room,” Draco said, closing the door behind them.

“Why not?”

“Because your room has a bed, and I’m not quite certain you understand what no sex means yet.”

She had no intention of ever understanding that. She’d been prepared to drop her pursuit, but the very fact that he’d wanted to keep her going like this definitely turned his 'no' into a 'maybe'. And everyone knew what 'maybe' meant.

“I understand what it means,” was, however, what she said.

“The words, possibly, but you’re one stubborn witch.”

She ignored his statement and moved towards the old, beaten sofa. “We sit on this?” She brought her hand down on the backrest and a pile of dust rose. She wrinkled her nose. Oh, how lovely. This wasn’t seedy at all. She wasn’t even going to think about what the stains on that sofa were from—or who.

“No. I don’t think you can handle that yet either.”

She raised an eyebrow and turned back towards him. “I can’t handle it?”

”Anywhere we can lie down is off-limits today.”

She snorted. “Then I suppose the floor is too?”

“Lying on it is, yes. Come here.”

She glanced at him. There was something about the way he looked at her whilst beckoning her to come closer. It was thrilling and a little bit scary. “You really like telling me what to do, don’t you?”

“Every second of it, yes.”

“So, are you saying you’d consider—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I know what you were going to ask, and the answer is still no. It’s not your submission or lack thereof that’s the deal-breaker.”

“But there is one?” she had to ask.

“Yes.”

She mulled that over for a second. “Do me a favour.”

“What?”

“If the deal-breaker has anything at all to do with your bigotry, never tell me. Think of a pretty and believable lie.”

He slowly shook his head without even breaking eye contact for a second. “It doesn’t.”

“Yes, that’s a start.”

He shot her an exasperated glance. “Did you come here to talk or to snog?”

He was right. She was procrastinating. Mentally grabbing a firm hold of her own neck and guiding herself towards him, she gave him a wicked smile.

He pursed his lips in what looked like wry amusement. “For a second there, I thought you were going to act like a normal girl.”

“And how’s that?” she asked, sliding her hands around his neck to link them behind his head, refusing to feel awkward about it.

“Hesitant. Shy. Embarrassed.” He looked down at her. “But you don’t actually know any of those feelings, do you?”

“Life’s too short to feel embarrassed about wanting something.” She unlinked her hands and let them skim down his collarbones to his chest and was about to start some fun exploration, when he grabbed them and held them away from his body.

“No touching,” he said.

She blinked. “No touching at all?”

He shook his head. “Only kissing, no touching.”

“That sounds boring.”

“Only if you do it wrong. Now shut up.”

Then he grabbed her neck and kissed her.

Apparently, it wasn’t only tipsy kissing that could get her blood boiling. His lips were warm and his breath was hot, but why it would light a bonfire in her, she wasn’t certain. Maybe it was this thing called chemistry. She’d never even considered that she might have it with Draco Malfoy, but in a way it made sense. He was everything that was wrong and off-limits.

He broke the kiss. “What’s wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.”

It was. “Don’t you feel it?” she asked.

“Feel what?”

“I don’t know what to call it. The... explosions.”

“Explosions? Have you lost it?” He shook his head as if to dismiss the notion, but his eyes were burning in the same way her body was.

“When we kiss... It’s intense.”

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

Was he afraid she might want it to mean something else? Now it was her turn to shake her head and pull his head down for another kiss. She seemed to take him by surprise, because he stumbled a little before catching himself and his lips was slightly parted. He’d kissed her quite skilfully last time at the library—soft and hard, nipping, caressing, and slightly sucking on her lips—but he hadn’t used his tongue or allowed hers to enter his mouth. Not for a second.

She wanted that so badly. She hoped he wasn’t the kind of person who simply didn’t enjoy that kind of kissing because it would kill her.

Quickly, before he could get his bearing back, she allowed the tip of her tongue to shoot out and caress the inside of his lip, afraid to go further in case he decided to use his teeth on her.

He froze.

She couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing, so she tried making another quick sweep, barely grazing the tip of his tongue. The contact sent a jolt of pure, raw sexual energy through her.

He broke away. “No...”

The disappointment was unwelcome but unsurprising. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s got nothing to do with like. Things with you tend to get a bit out of hand.”

That could win the Most Confusing Answer of the Year Award. “What kind of reply is that?”

“Don’t you think I know that you see this as yet another opportunity to try to seduce me?”

He’d have to be daft not to know that. She didn’t think he was daft. Bigoted, yes; daft, no. “You invited me here to snog, Draco. I thought that meant actual snogging.”

“I can’t kiss you like that when I can’t be certain that you’ll stop.”

“So you do like it?”

“I told you—that’s not really the issue here.”

She smiled, fairly certain she’d figured him out now. “Sounds to me like it is. Sounds to me like you’re saying that you like it so much that you’re afraid I’ll manage to get you into bed before you know what hit you.”

He looked away and she knew she was right. “I’m sorry, Granger. I don’t trust you.”

She merely shrugged at that. “I don’t blame you. I can’t be trusted. But I promise you that I won’t try to make you do anything if you’re in a state of mind where you’ll regret it later.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I won’t push for sex when you’re in a state where you can’t clearly say yes or no.”

“And who defines that state?”

“Your eyes.”

“What?” He eyed her warily, making her smile.

“I already told you that your pupils dilate, but they also get slightly glazed when we kiss and you... enjoy it.” She loved it when he got that look in his eyes. It almost made all his silly objections worth it.

“You already know that, do you? After two kisses?”

“I’m observant.”

“Yet you don’t seem to notice it when I tell you no.”

She grinned. “I do. But your eyes say yes, so...”

He made an exasperated sound. “Do you have a handbook full of pick-up clichés or something?”

“Yes, I do. It’s called What Men have told Women for Centuries to get into their Knickers.”

He actually snorted a laugh at that. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Except one thing.”

“What?”

“Why are we here? And why are you so opposed to sex with me?”

“That’s two things.”

He was really never going to answer her questions, was he? “Smart mouth.” She pouted at him.

“You like my smart mouth.”

“I do. I only wish you’d put it to better use.”

“I’ll kiss you, Granger. And I’ll even allow some tongue if you behave. But push too hard and we stop. For good.”

She nodded. She could live with that.

Then his lips were on hers again, moving to spread her lips apart so his tongue could explore. He was being aggressive, probably testing boundaries, but by now he should know that she didn’t have that many of them. She tried to run her hands down his chest again, but he caught them and entwined their fingers, holding her hands out to each side. When she struggled to free herself, he pushed her back until he held their hands against the wall before he broke the kiss and smirked at her.

“I said no touching, Granger.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“As are you.”

“Yes, but—”

Apparently, he wasn’t interested in any more debate, because he cut her off with another kiss, and somehow struggling to free her hands didn’t really seem that important. Of course, touching him would be nice, but the way he was crowding her against the wall, holding her hands in place, felt oddly exciting. Also, she could almost feel his body against hers. She arched into him, but was promptly punished by him pulling back.

“No,” he simply said.

She pouted.

“Pout all you want, Hermione. If you ever want more than this from me, you’ll have to learn to behave.”

She immediately perked up. “More? As in—”

“No. As in snogging on your bed and touching.”

Oh, well. That could work too. Besides, once touching on her bed, maybe more opportunities would open. “I’ll behave.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” He didn’t seem angry, though. If anything, he almost looked amused.

She bit her lip. She liked it when he looked amused like this. He wasn’t sneering or scoffing, but merely fighting a smile. It made him look... edible. Okay, maybe that was an odd choice of words, but right now Hermione could only think about devouring him. “You do like it when I’m a little naughty, though, don’t you?” she purred.

“I’ve never seen you be a little naughty. I thought you were a good girl, and then all of a sudden you’re this... I don’t even know.”

“I got bored with being good. Good girls only get to sit around and wait for the world to throw them a bone. I’d rather be out collecting my own bones.”

“That’s a subtle euphemism if ever I heard one.”

She couldn’t help the laugh. “Well, I do want that, but snogging will do for a bit.”

He shook his head at her. “Then do shut up, it’s really hard to kiss you when you keep talking.”

So she shut up, and didn’t talk for quite a while.

Not talking could be so much more fun than she’d ever thought.

* * *

It was very, very late by the time Draco made it back to his common room. He’d had to go out in one of the courtyards to cool down after that whole snogging session and was still debating the need for a cold shower.

She’d behaved remarkably well after the initial rebellion, but as much as he’d thought he wanted her to stop talking, he’d quickly realised that nothing but snogging made for quite the hellish arousal.

He hardly knew why he’d agreed to this. It was insane. He was so frustrated he could scream, he hadn’t finished most of his homework, his lips were chapped, and he was fairly certain that he’d only encouraged Granger to push harder for sex.

Was it really worth it just to be wanted?

To be wanted like that was really quite something, though. Pansy had wanted him once, and sometimes he did come across some girls that wanted him now, but they all had inhibitions, fears about what he or the world might think of them, ideas about saving their kisses and touches for someone who’d prove themselves worthy. Granger, on the other hand, didn’t seem to give a flying fig about any of those things. She saw something she wanted and went for it. She was determined—and bossy as hell—about it and didn’t take 'no' for an answer.

Her aggression turned him on. It also put him off because it went against everything he’d been taught to value in a girl, but mostly it turned him on in a very confusing kind of way, where he never seemed to know quite what was going on.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” someone drawled the second Draco entered the common room.

Draco suppressed a groan. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing my ex right now, Theo?”

“I would,” Theo calmly replied, “but for some reason the Headmistress didn’t find ‘I need to do my girlfriend’ a valid reason to remove the anti-wizard charm on the girls’ dormitories.”

Draco noticed they weren’t alone. Goyle was sitting in an armchair, staring at both of them with his mouth semi-open and Blaise Zabini was pursing his lips, probably thinking his own thing about this exchange. Oh, brilliant. He couldn’t stand any of them. Once again he cursed the Ministry for forcing anyone from their year who wasn’t a hero in the war to redo their seventh year if they wanted the credentials. He didn’t want to be here, but so long as he was here, he’d rather they weren’t here.

Besides, not that Draco cared, but he felt a flare of annoyance that he’d come off as jealous in front of all of them when he was merely annoyed at Theo’s greeting.

“It was your turn, Goyle,” Zabini said, quickly dismissing Draco.

Goyle shook his head.

“What?” Zabini scoffed. “You aren’t still a virgin, are you?”

Goyle blushed but adamantly shook his head again.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What’s this about, then?”

Theo made a long-suffering sigh. “Blaise here decided we all had to tell him about our first time in detail. When none would comply, he gave us a rather graphic description of his own first time, and now he seems to be badgering Goyle.”

“Ah.” Draco sat down. Dislike notwithstanding, he’d like to see this.

“What about you then, Malfoy?” Zabini said. “You should have a good story.”

“Me? No comment.”

Zabini snorted. “Please. You know you want to tell.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and then smirked. Maybe he could get a little bit back at Theo. “Well, obviously it was with Pansy.”

“Obviously,” Zabini nodded. “What else?”

Draco was disappointed to see that Theo had no reaction whatsoever. “What else is there?”

“Was there blood? Did she like it? Did you last seconds or perhaps even minutes? Were you so nervous you couldn’t get going?” Apparently Zabini had given this far too much thought.

“Seconds?” Draco asked. “Please tell me that’s not the typical length of first times.”

“I didn’t even make it in,” Zabini said.

“I certainly didn’t last long,” Theo remarked.

“I did,” Goyle stammered. “I couldn’t... finish.”

Draco stared and then blinked rapidly a few times when his eyes began to feel dry. “I, er, guess I averaged?” He frowned. He was coming off rather vaguely here.

“How about her?” Zabini pushed.

“What about her?”

“Did she enjoy it?”

“I... guess?”

Theo snorted. “When Pansy enjoys it, you don’t have to guess,” he said.

Zabini laughed out loud at that.

“Aren’t we being a little crude here?” Draco objected, feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

Zabini rolled his eyes and got up. “None of you are any fun. None of you! I’m going to bed.”

Goyle quickly disappeared after him. Apparently the dunce had found a new ‘master’.

Theo, on the other hand, merely sat there and pursed his lips whilst watching Draco.

“What?” Draco finally irritably asked.

“I was merely thinking about what a special girl Pansy is.”

“Well, duh. Aren’t you going out with her?”

“Yes, that too, but I was thinking about something else.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that I took Pansy’s virginity and know for a fact that she didn’t sleep with you after that, so she must have had two virginities. Imagine that.”

Draco shrugged, not caring enough about his story to keep it up. “So I lied. I wasn’t going to give Zabini any real information to spread around.”

“You could’ve named any girl, yet you chose one you hadn’t slept with.”

“I was trying to mess with you and obviously failed.”

“I suppose that could be it. It could also be that a certain lie is now so pervasive that you can’t tell the truth any longer. To anyone. That’s going to become a problem for you.”

“Zabini is hardly the person to tell any kind of intimate truth under any circumstances. He’ll twist it around and find a way to use it against you, you know that as well as I do.”

“And what’s the worst that can happen from that?”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t. Not at all. But Pansy always worries about you, so I figure that if I can help fix you, you can soon be out of our lives.”

“Charming.”

“Stop lying, Draco. Use the truth to your advantage instead. It’s much simpler,” Theo said as he got up from his chair, and then he left as well.

Yeah, right. Like the truth had any kind of advantages.

* * *

Hermione did her very best to follow Draco’s rules. She really did. She didn’t sit next to him in class, she gave him stellar performance reviews for his help in the library, and she didn’t let him know exactly how restless she was to have another rendezvous with him.

She even slipped him a note, inviting him to come study at her room one afternoon with the promise that she wouldn’t try anything.

He politely declined her invitation and generally left her hanging for several days before finally asking her to come to that disgusting old office again.

She considered declining just to spite him, but then decided against it. She wanted this more than he did, so she couldn’t jeopardise her chances. Unfortunately.

So off she went. He wasn’t there yet, so she stood for a few minutes, staring at the old sofa, wondering if anyone would mind if she accidentally burned it, when he finally arrived.

“Oh, you’re already here,” he said.

“I happen to always be on time,” she absent-mindedly replied. “You’re late.”

“Sorry. Had things to do.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She bit her tongue, realising how surly she was sounding. It was counter-productive. Instead she forced a smile. “But you’re here now. So, what’s on your agenda for the evening?”

He gave her a long look before slowly smiling. “You’re pissed off.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Of course not!”

“Why are you denying it?”

Because the second she showed herself as a human being, she knew he’d be out of there. She wasn’t through with him yet. “Because I don’t want to fight, Malfoy! I want to snog.”

“I bet I know why you won’t admit it. It’s because you think I’ll get sick of you and then cancel these meetings.”

She shrugged. “You would.”

“Of course.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I've now decided that I refuse to go any further until you tell me exactly why you’ll go to such lengths to keep me happy merely so I won’t cancel these meetings.” He folded his arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall, smirking at her.

“Oh, give me a break!”

His smirk widened. “I didn’t figure you’d be the kind to fancy me, Granger.”

What? “I don’t fancy you.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“This plan of yours won’t work.”

“What won’t work? I figured it out!”

Her lips tightened and she glared at him. He was very clearly trying to goad the truth out of her by spewing unthinkable theories, but she wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“But,” he continued, “much as I’m flattered, I have to tell you that I’m not that interested. Don’t get me wrong, you do have a really nice body, but I need more in a witch.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He ignored it and gleefully went on. “And I’m not just talking about the blood status either. I need someone with a bit more... finesse.”

“Finesse,” she echoed, doing her very best not to strike him.

“Yes. I mean, you do have a lot of enthusiasm, I’ll grant you that, but—”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” she sputtered. “I’m only doing this because you’re the Hogwarts broom!”

“The what?”

“You know. Everyone’s had a ride.”

“Everyone’s...” His eyes widened and then narrowed, making him look almost ominous. “I see.”

“Good! Is this conversation over, then?”

“No. I still don’t know why you'd care to go after the, ah, 'Hogwarts broom'.”

“It’s personal.”

“It doesn’t really get much more personal than losing your virginity to someone, does it?”

He had a point there. She grunted. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m listening.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I bet I wouldn’t,” he conceded. “But try me.”

“I... can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s stupid,” she admitted. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid, she knew everyone else would find it stupid, yet she still had to do it!

“If you think it’s stupid, then why are you doing it?”

“Because I have to.”

“That’s a brilliant reason to lose your virginity to someone you hate if ever I heard one.”

That made her pause and she frowned. “Hate? Why would I hate you?”

“Oh, let me count the reasons... Isn’t that simply what we do? Hate on each other.”

She shot him a confused look. Did he hate her? He wasn’t always exactly friendly, but she hadn’t detected any real venom in him lately. If he did hate her, she might actually have to reconsider her whole plan. “Maybe you do. I don’t.”

“Right. That’s why I wasn’t on your list to begin with.”

His preoccupation with not being on that list honestly spoke volumes of this supposed hate of his.

“No, that was the reason,” she replied. “But then I got to thinking. Most of the things you’ve done that really made me dislike you were done when we were very young. I couldn’t hold any of that against you any longer.”

“The war wasn’t that many months ago, Granger.”

“No, but the Wizengamot decided that you deserved another chance in society and sent you here, so who am I to refuse you that second chance by continuing to judge you?”

“It’s really that easy, huh?”

“It is.”

“But why?”

“You keep asking that.”

“And you keep not answering.”

So he’d noticed that, huh? She really didn’t want to answer. “Does it actually matter? Are you going to feel guilty if you sleep with me and then realise I did it for all the wrong reasons?”

“I won’t sleep with you.”

“Then why do you need to know?”

“Because it has to be good for you to want so badly to keep it from me.”

She sighed in defeat. She had to give him something. “I need to do it to have a chance of getting back with Ron, okay?”

He looked at her for what seemed like a very long time. “So, what I’m hearing here is that the ugliest of the Weasleys—and that’s saying something—got himself a girlfriend both too clever and too pretty for him yet squandered his luck away by cheating on her, and she—and by ‘she’ I mean ‘you’ by the way—decides to make the least clever retaliation I can think of and do a good old-fashioned quid pro quo.”

“You don’t know everything, Malfoy.”

“No, but suddenly I know enough. Sleeping with someone else won’t make you feel better. It won’t undo what he did if you hurt him. You’ll probably even blame him for ‘making’ you do it and then you’ll resent him even more.”

How petty did he think she was? “I’m not doing any of this to get back at him! I’m doing it so virginity won’t be an issue.”

“What?”

“If neither of us are virgins any longer, I can ignore that we ever had a virginity to give. Snogging you is nice, but it’s also a way to feel like I’m at least moving towards that goal. And I think I am. I’m learning a few things about boys.”

He stared at her, slack-jawed. “That’s your fix for betrayal? Ignoring there was anything to betray in the first place?”

“No offence, Malfoy, but you’re not exactly the person I’d look to for relationship advice.”

“After this, let me tell you, the feeling is mutual. I had no idea how messed up you were.”

She looked away. She had a fairly good idea that he still didn’t have any idea exactly how messed up she was. “There, I told you what you wanted to know. Are we going to snog, or are you suddenly having a case of morality?”

“Oh, no morals here. In fact, if what you’re saying is true, we should snog more.”

“Really?” She screwed up her face. “Talk about messed up."

“You have no idea...” He pulled her closer. “Maybe we should take it a little further today, since you eventually came around.”

“And how far would that be?”

“Sitting. Touching, but not in the key areas and only outside the clothes.”

“You’re so boring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you have any idea how much I was dying last time?” she whinged.

“Not really. But do tell me all about it.” He drew her towards the sofa.

She decided she might as well elaborate since he was inviting it. “You refused to touch me, and all I wanted was to be touched anywhere.”

“So did you find someone who’d do it?” He sat down and pulled her down next to him.

She frowned. Exactly how much on the prowl did he think she was? “No... I went back to my room... alone...”

“Poor little girl...” he teased.

“And then I took off all my clothes...”

He raised an eyebrow. “All of them?”

“I like to be naked when I please myself.”

He looked like he was going to object to the turn this conversation was taking, but then he frowned in thought. “Isn’t that kind of inconvenient?”

“Isn’t ejaculating kind of inconvenient?” she countered.

He gave her a gentle push so she sat down and then sat down next to her, saying, “That’s why I like to do it in the shower.”

“Do it? Please yourself or be pleased?” And how did he like to be pleased in the shower? All kinds of images flashed through Hermione's head and she wasn't opposed to a single one of them.

“I suppose both would work, but I was referring to being alone.”

“So, we both like to do it naked...”

“I actually prefer being on a bed, but you’re right that it’s a mess and there’s no real privacy around these parts.”

“My room is private,” she coaxed.

“I’m not going to come in your room, Hermione.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

He snorted a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever met another girl who needed to get laid as badly as you do.”

“And yet you won’t do it.” She pouted. It really wasn't fair. They had so much chemistry between them, yet he refused to take advantage of it.

“I’ll snog you senseless if that counts.”

“I guess it’ll have to,” she said, still pouting. Why was he so damn insistent that they couldn’t have sex? She could easily tell that he enjoyed the idea of her tossing off naked in her room, so why not act on it?

Boys.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 3/10

2012-04-17T22:39:11Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,455

* * *

Draco had had a prime view of Hermione's bottom from where he was holding the ladder. He was quite certain she knew that. She was wearing barely decent underwear under her skirt, he'd soon discovered. Or, rather, he supposed it was decent enough, but there was something about the way the fabric only partially covered her backside that was oddly mesmerising.

That, and the lace was awfully pretty.

Yeah, that was the reason he was staring.

When she fell, he thought it was another one of her antics, and he prepared to catch her, only to see her frantically grab hold of a step, resulting in a sickening sound. She cried out and almost immediately let go again, but had already gained hold with her other hand and feet and didn't fall.

It didn't seem like her to miss such a splendid opportunity to get up close and personal.

"Are you all right?" he asked, when she merely stood there and didn't move.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

He couldn't quite see, but she seemed to be cradling her hand.

"Did you hurt that?" he asked, nodding towards her hand, even though she couldn't see.

She slowly nodded. "I think so."

"Well, then you aren't fine, are you?"

She glared down at him. "I didn't break my neck—I consider that a fortune."

"What are you on about? I would've caught you."

She snorted. "Right." Then she began an awkward one-handed climb down.

He scowled at her back. She was always such a bloody martyr. “Why wouldn’t I? You were completely right about how people would see it if you got hurt.”

“I did get hurt.”

“Not through any fault of mine!”

She took the last step down and glared at him. “Except that you’re impossible to trust and that's why it happened.”

"Yes, you being stupid is completely my fault. Hospital wing, then?"

She wrinkled her nose, looking down at the hand she was holding protectively against her chest. "Nah... I mean... It hurts, but I don't think I broke anything."

"Let me have a look at it." He reached out.

She immediately stepped back, eyeing him suspiciously. "I don't think so."

And yet she thought she'd be able to sleep with him? He shook his head at the sheer lack of logic. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do, Granger?"

"I don't know. Relish my pain?"

"I can do that without touching you."

"You can't magnify it without touching me."

He wearily rubbed the area between his eyes that had begun to ache. "Granger, I can't fucking harm you and you know that. If I have as much as a bad thought, they'll stick me in Azkaban for the rest of my life."

She slowly nodded in acknowledgement of that. "But you have to admit it's suspicious when you all of a sudden offer to do something that could be viewed as nice or helpful."

"Why? You're evaluating me. If I help you, that'll mean a better evaluation, right?"

She still looked suspicious but only hesitated slightly in holding out her hand.

He grabbed the wrist, noticing her wince, and pushed the hand slightly backwards, making her cry out.

She tore her hand out of his grasp. "You did that on purpose!"

"I barely even moved it, Granger. And it's already beginning to swell. It might not be broken, but you really should go to the hospital wing."

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll go. But for your information, it doesn't look good that the first night you're helping me, I have to go to the hospital wing."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. It's all my fault. Are we going?" He began walking without making sure she was with him.

She only hesitated a few seconds before catching up with him. "I didn't say it's all your fault. I said it looks bad. People might think I'm trying to protect you."

He snorted. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm that kind of ninny."

"Ninny?"

She nodded enthusiastically and he noticed that her cheeks were flaming and her eyes were shiny. Her wrist must really hurt. "Yes, I'm extremely easy to persuade to not report someone. I have an unwavering faith in humanity."

"And that makes you a ninny?"

"Yes, of course. Humanity includes you."

He glared at her. "I know you're in pain, Granger, but could you stop with the pissy comments? I didn't actually do anything!"

She blushed even more. "You're right, I'm sorry. But in my defence, you were much more fun when you used to give as good as you got."

"I know." He sighed wistfully. "I miss being able to insult all of you plonkers without any repercussions."

"You can insult me," she offered. "I won't tell anyone."

"Yeah... not going to take that chance. Sorry." Too much was at stake. He might regret not being able to call her names, but that was far preferable over going to Azkaban because of his 'attitude'.

She pouted. "No fun. You won't sleep with me and you won't even insult me."

It was his turn to blush. She certainly had a way with words sometimes. "Then maybe you should go look for a bloke that will do both if that's what gets you off."

She actually cracked a small smile before going back to looking displeased. "I think I'll take one or the other."

He didn't reply but merely shouldered the door to the hospital wing open. With any luck, this wouldn't take too long and he'd be allowed to go to bed soon.

* * *

Hermione eyed the wrist splint she'd been saddled with and deepened her everlasting pout. You'd think they could make the pain immediately go away with magic.

"Oh, come off it, Granger," Malfoy said, seeing the look on her face. "It'll be gone in a few days."

"It's my right hand!" she whinged. "I can't take notes like this."

He rolled his eyes at her. "So you won't take notes for a couple of classes. You'll live."

She knew he was right, but she felt like being surly so she merely scowled at him.

"All right," he said, getting up from the chair where he'd been sat all through her treatment. "You'll live and I trust you don't actually think I had a part in your clumsy adventure."

She pursed her lips. "Of course you had a part in this."

He stopped dead to stare at her. "You can't be serious."

"I am. I'll be sure to tell the Headmistress all about it."

His jaw tightened. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course. She needs to know that you examined it, talked me into going to the hospital wing, and even walked me here and stayed with me."

He stared at her as if unsure what to make of her story. "Of course I did! I couldn't risk pissing you off."

"You could've shrugged and walked off and you know it."

"Not when I could risk being blamed for your injury."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy. It's not such a bad thing to be a decent human being."

"But... I'm not!"

"Right."

"Right!"

"Of course," she patiently agreed.

"That's what I said!"

"I'm not contradicting you."

"You're humouring me and that's even worse!" He was beginning to look downright distressed.

She sniggered. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He frowned at her and then without another word turned on his heel and left the room.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud.

* * *

Draco managed to have an almost Granger-free weekend—how that happened, he wasn't quite certain, other than she’d cancelled Friday’s work—but Sunday afternoon, she found him again. She was still wearing her wrist splint and a skirt he would mostly describe as perky.

"Can I count on you tonight?" she asked without preamble.

"Uh, for what?"

She pursed her lips. "I was thinking library duty, but that's negotiable..."

He mentally groaned and reminded himself not to give her any openings. "Sunday isn't one of my days. I'm supposed to report in Tuesday and Friday."

"Technically, I decide when you're supposed to report in. And I'm having problems doing the work with this hand."

"So... it's an order?"

"It's a request."

"I can turn it down?" he asked, ever the optimist.

"You can. But your review would suffer from it."

"So what you're trying to say is that I only have the pretence of a choice?"

"That's fairly accurate."

He sighed. "See you after dinner, then."

* * *

"You know, Granger..." Malfoy said after they'd been at the library a few minutes. "If you keep wearing those skirts, you're going to catch a cold. I promise you, I've already seen your legs."

Hermione hid a smirk, slowly climbing up to put a single book away. She'd noticed him more than seeing her legs. His fascination was her entire reason to keep wearing skirts. "Don't worry, Malfoy. I’ve not caught a cold in ages. I exercise, eat my vegetables, and make sure to catch a bit of sun whenever it's available. You can look at my legs without concern for my health."

"You honestly think that your legs are sexy enough to convince me?"

She climbed down and turned towards him, noticing how he wasn't looking at her but seemed very concentrated on reading some titles. He couldn't even look at her?

"Why, Malfoy..." she purred, "are you saying I have sexy legs?"

His cheeks pinkened, although Hermione noted that the blush was less severe than she was used to. Aww. Her effect on him was wearing off.

"I think you know exactly how appealing your legs are; why else would you flaunt them?" he bit out.

She'd never given them much thought, really. She was only flaunting them because it worked. She cocked her head. "How about my breasts, then?"

That startled him enough that he looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"I showed them to you. Did you like them? Are they too big? Too small? How about the nipples? Too dark? Too big? Not big enough?"

"I didn't notice." He looked away again.

"You want me to refresh your memory?"

"No!" He stared at her. "Seriously, Granger! Have you no shame?"

"Not in my body, no. Bodies are perfectly natural. Besides, I feel like I maintain mine to the best of my abilities. There are, however, certain things that are outside of my control—my nipple size, for instance."

He kept staring at her for a few moments where she merely blithely smiled back before he blinked and shook his head. "For what it's worth, you're embarrassing me."

"I know. But I also know I arouse you."

"I told you that blokes can't control that."

"How much do you want to bet that I could show Harry my legs without him raising a tent in his trousers? Besides, I've kept an eye on the other young wizards I've come across lately. Some look—well, most do, actually—but very few show visual signs of arousal."

"And do you show these other wizards your diddies and throw yourself at them every chance you get?"

Hermione sniggered. "I love it when you show your claws, Malfoy."

"Fuck you, Granger."

"That's what I'm trying to get you to do..."

He roughly inserted the last book he was holding and turned to face her. "Don't you get it? Even if we did do it, it would be cold and impersonal. Why do you want that?"

"Never mind why, but it is what I want." Somehow, she didn't feel like telling him about Ron and her decision.

He snorted. "It's never what girls want."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's funny, coming from someone who's supposedly been with a lot of girls."

"Let me put it this way, then—I don't need for you to have regrets and let my evaluation suffer for it."

"That's not a concern."

"For me it is."

She shook her head, trying to squash the excitement of this sounding an awful lot like negotiation. He had so many different excuses to turn her down. "No, it's not. I'd never let those things influence each other."

"Dragon dung. You let all kinds of other crap influence you."

"I'll write your evaluation first if that changes your mind."

"It doesn't."

She sighed. Of course not. "Then why are we having this discussion?"

"We aren't."

"You could've fooled me."

He didn't reply but merely scowled at her.

His stubbornness really wasn't very titillating. "Look, Draco," she said, intentionally switching to his first name, hoping he’d read sincerity into it. "If you really don't want anything to do with me, then what's the problem? I'm not out to rape you in some dark hallway."

He shot her another dark glance. "You sure about that?"

"No, I accidentally rape boys all the time!" she snapped.

He snorted again. It really wasn't a polite sound.

"I hate to break it to you, Draco," she added, "but you're not that irresistible. I'll eventually get bored and find someone less prudish."

"And how long till that happens?" he asked.

She couldn't prevent the small twitch of her lips. "A rough estimate will be shortly after you stop ogling me and licking your lips whenever you see bare skin."

"I don't do that!"

"Uh-huh. Yes, you do."

He sneered and went to get more books.

* * *

Her shirts had become lower cut. She really was asking for a cold. Fortunately, Draco at least didn't have to look at it during classes because of the mandatory school robes. He'd never loved the robes as much as he did these days. How would he ever get any schoolwork done if she was sitting there next to him, flaunting her breasts and rubbing those bare thighs against his?

Granger, of course, seemed to think that this was all some great joke. She could barely look at him without laughing at his plight.

He currently had a theory that she didn’t actually want to sleep with him at all. She was working some elaborate scheme to embarrass him as much as possible as some kind of petty revenge for everything he’d ever done to her and her friends.

Or maybe she was merely playing him for her own amusement.

Of course, maybe she really was out to get laid, but she was still bad news. She was working from a position of spite and couldn’t be trusted not to try to find his secrets and use them against him. She could hardly get him thrown in Azkaban for most of the things he was hiding, but she could make him the laughing stock of Hogwarts. That wasn’t something he was interested in.

So Tuesday night, he did his damnedest not to ogle her inviting thighs or cleavage, and by the next Friday night he’d even somewhat mastered his blushes, to her very obvious great chagrin.

If he could keep this up, she would leave him alone in no time.

* * *

Hermione felt like she was floating along the hallway. This had been the best idea she’d had in a while. In fact, it had been the only good idea she’d had for weeks.

The Malfoy thing certainly was a disaster. He seemed to become more and more immune to her advances with each passing day and she hadn’t even got a good snog out of him yet! It was fairly depressing.

In comparison, getting drunk—or at least very tipsy—at the unauthorised party she’d come across quite by accident really was the plan of the year.

True, she should probably have reported every single participant there and confiscated all the alcohol, but why would she do that? She’d broken a fair few rules herself over the years and a party was as harmless as could be.

Besides, she’d hoped that some bloke might take advantage of her. Make Malfoy superfluous. But no such luck. Mallory had been there, but apparently he now had a girlfriend. Too bad. He really was cute. As for the rest of the boys... she supposed one or two had eyed her, but nobody had been aggressive enough and she was tired of taking all the initiative. Was it really too much to ask that every once in a while the boy would initiate contact?

Sighing, she decided to pass by the library. Drunk or not, she was very awake and if she put the last of the books away tonight, she could take it easy tomorrow.

In a few weeks, either Madam Pince would be back or the Headmistress would hire a real temporary replacement. Hermione didn’t mind the work so much, though. They were actually compensating her a little bit for her time and it was always nice with some extra pocket money.

Humming, she entered the library, but then stopped and frowned. Something was off. Why were there lights and parchment on the table? She’d closed the library herself, and who’d sneak in at off hours on a Saturday?

The answer appeared from behind a bookcase and then froze, staring at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Malfoy. It’s after-hours, you know.”

“Uh, yeah...” he muttered. “Figured there had to be some perks to constantly sorting this place. I'm behind on an essay.”

“It’s Saturday night! Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Don’t you?” he shot back.

She snorted. He wasn’t going to get her with that. Not today. “I already saw to that,” she said, making a flourish that started out all right, but ended with her stumbling a bit and giggling.

He stared at her again. “Uh, right. I can see that. Maybe I did too.”

“Did you have sex?” she immediately asked.

He groaned. “I thought you said you were going to spare me that.”

“Spare you what? Why would I spare you of anything?"

“You said that whole jealousy thing wouldn't happen,” he elaborated.

“Oh.” She laughed. “It’s not a jealousy thing. I was hoping you might share some details with me.”

“Why would I do that, Granger?”

“Because I need to learn somehow, and the whole male student body is entirely uncooperative.”

He muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t really decipher, even though she strained to hear it, and then a little louder said, “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it is!” She put on her best pout and carefully began moving towards him. “Everyone is so passive, Malfoy. All I want is for someone, anyone, to reach out and touch me. But nobody ever does.”

He shook his head. “That’s not all you want and you know it.”

“But it is,” she insisted. “I just want to be touched.” She’d reached him and slowly raised her hand and put it on his chest. “Like this. See?”

He didn't move away from her, but he wasn't acting very encouraging either. “You wouldn’t stop there.”

She worried her lower lip for a few seconds, giving the pretence of considering his words, before she nodded. “You’re right. I’d probably like a kiss as well. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed?”

He didn’t answer right away but merely looked at her. After a while, she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, but then he sighed. “Let me guess—sometime before you came back here for your seventh year.”

She nodded again. “Exactly. That’s more than six months, Malfoy! My body is lonely.”

“I don’t doubt that. But you wouldn’t stop there either.”

She glanced up at his eyes to gauge his mood, but found it tremendously hard to read him right now. She took a deep breath. “If I promised to stop there, would you indulge me?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I promised to not push for more tonight, would you kiss me?”

He frowned. “You'd only stop for the night?”

“You can’t ask me to stop altogether, Malfoy. After all, you have the cutest arse in Arithmancy.”

He shot her an exasperated look.

She sighed, disappointment and resignation stealing all of her energy and leaving her with no will to play this game any longer. “It was worth a tr—mmpf!” She stared up at him. He’d covered her mouth with his hand and was intently staring at the door. She didn’t quite understand that reaction. Had he heard something? He was in violation of the rules, but she wasn’t, and she’d merely say she’d asked him to help here tonight, so what was the problem?

“Come on,” he muttered, grabbing her arm and dragging her deeper into the library.

“There’s really no reason to fear getting caught,” she said, still puzzled.

He stopped when they’d reached one of the more obscure corners and turned to face her. “Yes, there is,” he said.

And then he grabbed her shoulders and covered her lips with his own.

Hermione felt a shock go through her, starting at her lips and ending at the tips of her toes. It was a good shock. The kind that left you slightly breathless and excited for more.

If this was tipsy kissing, she saw no reason to ever be sober again.

* * *

Draco knew he'd made a bad decision before he was even certain he'd go through with it.

He shouldn't kiss her. It would only encourage her to go for more and cause him endless grief and embarrassment—not to mention inconvenient unfulfilled arousal.

Yet she'd seemed halfway human for once and all this playing nice must be getting to him, because he'd reacted to the vulnerability like he hadn't reacted to anything else she'd ever said or done.

Or maybe he was simply getting off on Harry Potter's little Muggle-born friend being at his mercy.

Either way, he was currently pressed against a warm, soft body, kissing even warmer, softer lips and it was surprisingly nice.

Nice wouldn't do, not at all. He could only imagine his own frustration if she decided that this wasn't a one-off. The way she was eagerly pressing against him was already doing a number on his self-control. No, he needed to convince her—if not himself—that this was better not repeated.

Maybe by introducing some crude reality into the mix?

He began pushing her backwards and she willingly followed. He used unnecessary force to push her against the nearest bookcase, but she didn't even flinch. She merely put her arms around his neck and raised her leg to rub it against the outside of his thigh.

It was all he could do not to purr. He might have been snogged more than her in the past six months, but anything more than that had been sorely lacking, and she was so damn inviting.

It was time to turn it up a notch.

He grabbed her arse and hoisted her up far enough to be able to comfortably grope her breast. This elicited a surprised gasp from her and he expected her to shove him away, but she didn't. Instead she merely bit her lip and arched into his hand.

Torture. Why of all the girls that could act like this did it have to be her?

He couldn't take much more of this. He was already aroused and knew she could feel it. He was touching so much soft flesh, and she didn't seem to mind at all. His hand on her arse had moved under her skirt and was tracing the lacy edge of her knickers. He wondered whether she would object if they dipped inside to explore for a bit but had a very ominous feeling that she wouldn't.

She would let him touch her whilst squirming and moaning and inviting him to go further.

This was bad. On top of everything, he had very vivid mental images of her breasts, her thighs and her arse going through his mind over and over and over again.

"Why not simply go for it?" she whispered, drawing him in to kiss him again. He shivered. He wanted to.

He couldn't. He broke free. "You're drunk," he tamely said.

"So? You don't care and neither do I." She nibbled at his earlobe and for a second his eyes actually rolled back.

"I... can't... afford..." he stammered.

"I told you, it's not an issue," she muttered against his collarbone, sending delicious vibrations through him.

"It is."

She shook his head so her hair tickled his cheek. "No, it's really not. I've written nothing but praise about you so far and this won't change that."

He drew back. "I thought you weren't going to push for more if I kissed you."

She groaned. "That's so mean."

"This doesn't say a lot about your ability to stick to a deal."

"Hey, I didn't pester you about it. I only asked why you didn't go for it," she objected.

"Uh-huh."

She pouted. "Fine... We'll keep it to whatever you want to do."

"I want to stop now."

"Are you certain?" Her hands were caressing his neck and her voice was so bloody throaty and sexy that he wanted to gag her. "I wouldn't mind more kissing."

He had to clench his jaw to keep his reactions to a minimum and then let go of her assets to grab her hands and remove them from his skin. "We both know that if it were up to you, we wouldn't ever stop."

"Of course we would. We'd need sustenance, after all."

"Granger..."

"Please use my given name after snogging me."

"Hermione... I'm... not interested. At all. Please give it up."

"You say that, but it doesn't seem to register with the rest of your body."

"Involuntary reaction."

"I was talking about your pupils, Draco. They dilate whenever you look at me. Say whatever you want, but that tends to mean want."

"Of course I want you; look at how you're inviting me!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"I..." He faltered. It was too damn embarrassing. "My body might want you, but my mind doesn't."

"Then what does it take to change your mind?"

"I don't want it changed."

She smiled. "Then we're at odds, because I do."

* * *

The next morning, Hermione staggered down to breakfast. She didn’t feel sick, per se, but she was parched and had what felt like a dehydration headache.

But at least Malfoy would snog her when she was drunk. She should remember that for another time. And maybe also remember to drink a large glass of water before bed.

She blindly sat down in her usual spot and began loading food onto her plate. She barely even registered that someone sat down next to her.

“Well, you look like shite today,” Ginny said by way of greeting.

Hermione snorted. No doubt. “Eventful night.”

“Yeah, I heard about the party. Shame on you, Head Girl.” She sounded amused rather than censorious.

“I get that a lot. So, what’s the occasion?”

“For what?”

“For you to sit down with me. That hasn’t happened often since... you know...” It wasn’t that Hermione blamed Ginny for withdrawing a bit after Hermione and Ron had officially broken up, but it did make this encounter stand out.

Ginny picked at some toast. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“But I was kind of wondering...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. Harry has sent me some odd letters. Says that Ron is acting strangely, writing a lot of letters and tearing them up, obsessively checking for owls whilst muttering that this time he’s really done for and you’ll never forgive him.”

Hermione sighed. This would have to be the topic she least wanted to get into. “That’s personal, Ginny.”

“I know. I even thought you were done months ago. But can’t you give me something to tell Harry?”

“Why? So he can tell Ron? I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“What did Ron do?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Ginny shook her head and picked some more at her toast. “It doesn’t even matter. I’m sure it was something incredibly stupid. Just remember that in his own thick-skulled way, he loves you. And he’s a good person.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t matter?”

“I think I... need to see other people for a while.”

“Fair enough. Can I tell Harry that?”

“All right.”

Ginny nodded and then she was off again.

* * *

“Draco, I have to ask you something,” Pansy said without preamble.

“Shh! This is the library!”

She snorted. “And Madam Pince is out sick; everyone knows that. Since when are you at the library this early in the morning, anyway?”

Since he’d figured Granger and her distracting body would be sleeping it off. But saying that really wasn’t an option. “What do you want, Pansy?”

“I want to know why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.” Yes, he was. But only because her misplaced guilt for dumping him for Theodore Nott was becoming increasingly awkward.

“You are! And what’s this I hear about you and Granger?”

“All lies, I’m sure.” He faked boredom and returning to read his book.

“She sits next to you in class. Even I have seen that. It’s kind of creepy.”

He twitched. Granger was really out to ruin his reputation. “It’s her way of messing with me. She’s evaluating me, you know, and sees that as her cue to try to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”

“I was told you were exchanging notes the other day. What are you doing?” She crossed her arms and stared at him, accusation all over her face.

“Might as well get some use out of her brains whilst she’s harassing me, no?” He tried to shrug it off but even a glance at Pansy’s unaltered stance told him that it wasn’t working.

“Uh-huh. She’s Muggle-born, Draco! I can set you up with some Pure—“

“No, thank you,” he cut her off. “And I’m not doing anything with her, either. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Pansy snorted. “Don’t give me that. Everyone knows you’ve been thinking with your dick since we broke up.”

“Yeah? And why would my dick think of Granger?” He suppressed another wince. His dick did in fact think of Granger from time to time, but how could it not with all her antics?

Pansy pursed her lips and got a very calculating look on her face. “You do seem to fancy the waif-like ones.”

“Waif-like?”

“Yes. Don’t deny it.”

“I don’t see how Granger fits that bill. She actually has curves and some leftover tan from summer. Also, do waifs have quite that many freckles?” Freckles that went down to her chest. And possibly other places. For a brief moment he even tried to recall her thighs, to see if he could remember any freckles there.

“Ah-hah! You’ve noticed her body!” She got an extremely triumphant look on her face.

He couldn’t help the laugh. “Pansy... I hate to be the one to tell you this, but most of us blokes take the measurements of anyone walking past us in the hallway. It’s nothing personal or even something that means we’re interested; it’s simply what we do.”

“Let me count the ways to be sexist...” she muttered. “Okay, fine. I’m just telling you she’s bad news. She could ruin your reputation, your credentials, your prospects, everything. If she got mad at you for anything you’d done, perceived or real, she could destroy your entire future. Not merely because she’s a Muggle-born, but because she’s one of them.”

And this was precisely why he couldn’t rebuff her more forcefully. “Is this some kind of alternate reality where you didn’t leave me to go bonk Theo?”

“You’re so crude.”

“And I’m also right. We’re not together any longer. You lost the prerogative to tell me what to do about other girls.”

“I care about you.”

“But I don’t care what you have to say. So please shut up and leave me alone.”

She didn’t reply but merely stared at him for a few seconds before she turned on her heel and left.

So maybe he still had some issues with how they’d broken up. Besides, her constant attempts to mother and pander to him to ease her own guilty conscience were annoying him like nothing else.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

Master List

The Virgin Conundrum 2/10

2012-04-17T22:34:48Z

Title: The Virgin Conundrum
Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,124

* * *

Watching Malfoy had become some kind of twisted hobby of Hermione's. It took her mind off Ron most days, at least, and even on the days when nothing could take her mind off him, she felt better having slightly petty fantasies of what Ron would say if she had sex with Malfoy.

She was certain that would make Ron really regret his own actions.

And possibly never want her again.

That thought gave her a bit of pause, but then she became angry. What right did he have to not want her? She'd saved her first time for him and had never even considered looking at another wizard before she got the devastating news. No, he had no right to not want her. In fact, if he didn't want her, then good riddance!

Except, she didn't really feel like it would be a good riddance. She merely hoped with all of her being that he wouldn't act like that, because that coupled with his own mistake would definitely make it impossible for her to return to him.

So she really had two choices. Either she could refrain from tempting fate and forgive and forget, or she could make the ultimate test.

Although the whole idea with a 'test' seemed so petty.

Yet she couldn't forgive and forget. She still couldn't stomach the thought of making love to Ron for the first time, knowing that he'd been with someone else. Knowing that he hadn't waited for her.

It would all have been so easy if she could either forgive him or completely let him go. As it was, she was currently caught in purgatory, and the only way out seemed through some kind of painful action.

She couldn't let him go.

Malfoy seemed to be between witches. He didn't seem too discriminatory and he had claimed to find her body nice. She wouldn't exactly have to tell Ron who it was she'd been with, either. She could just tell him the truth... that she had to know.

Not knowing was killing her.

And Malfoy... maybe he could be persuaded to be gentle with her. He didn't seem particularly rough around any of the other witches, after all. Mostly he was sneering, but she hadn't seen him be very forceful. The two times she'd come across him interacting with a female in a private place—where they hadn't been supposed to be, so Hermione had taken a perverse pleasure in breaking up the party and docking house points—he had actually physically seemed something that came close to gentle.

She didn't care if his words weren't gentle at all. She wasn't interested in his words. She was interested in his reputation and experience and how it could help her.

Malfoy would probably enjoy 'sticking it to' her in his own right. She could only imagine his future smug attitude around Ron and Harry. She didn't really care.

She just wanted it over with.

* * *

“Want to go somewhere more private together?” Lina Ramsey asked with a secret little smile.

Yes, Draco did want to go somewhere more private than this classroom together with the pretty Lina, but he’d glimpsed something bushy a few minutes ago and he knew that the Head Girl was waiting for an opportunity to harass him again. And unfortunately, she did have a leg to stand on as he was supposed to be in his common room at this hour. But how was he supposed to ever have any fun if he couldn't go anywhere?

“Maybe some other time,” he said, making sure to show all of his regret. “I have something I have to do right now.”

“Are you certain?” Lina purred, going closer to him and putting her hands on his chest. “I think we could have a lot of... fun.”

He had no idea what Lina’s motivations were yet. If he had to make a guess, he’d probably go with her trying to make someone else jealous or get back at an ex. She didn’t seem as interested in his reputation as Smethley had been, but she didn’t really know him well enough to be interested in him as a person, either.

Still... she was pretty. And less annoying than so many others. And the way she’d already snogged him earlier made him optimistic that she wasn’t even a tease.

So he really didn’t need for Granger to scare her off.

“Sorry, love,” he said, carefully removing her hands. “This can’t wait. We’ll talk again tomorrow, yeah?”

She looked genuinely put out. “Fine. We don’t have to.”

“Oh, we have to. But tomorrow.”

She sniffed. “Forget it. I’m not taking a number and getting in line behind whoever this is.”

“It’s not another girl.”

“Oh, there you are, lover,” a voice said behind him. “Are you ready?”

He cringed. Granger had been eavesdropping and was wrecking his love life on purpose. He opened his mouth to try to placate Lina, but before he could think of anything to say, she’d disappeared in a huff.

He groaned. So close this time. So close.

“She was an upgrade from your last one,” Granger conversationally said. “I see your tastes have improved."

He didn’t comment on that with anything but a murderous look. “Stalking and harassing now, Granger? I know you’re sweet on me, but you’re really taking it too far.”

“I’m not sweet on you.”

“Yet you follow me everywhere I go and scare off the competition.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m sweet on you.”

Her lack of adamant refusal that she did any such thing on purpose threw him for a loop. “Come again?”

“I re-evaluated my list and you were right.”

He eyed her warily. “I was?”

“Yes. You absolutely did stand out.”

Of course he’d stood out, she’d more reason to dislike him than anybody! “That’s great. Now go find someone who stands out in a positive way.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to like this person. Half your ‘cons’ are actually ‘pros’, as it turns out.”

He really didn’t like where this was going. “Half still leaves a whole lot of ‘cons’.”

“True. I did consider that. But the fact of the matter is that if we can make some sort of deal, you will do perfectly.”

“A deal?”

“Sex. You have expertise and claimed to like my body. There will be no talking or interacting outside of the sex, and there will be no mentioning of the sex afterwards. Oh, and the sex won’t be rough.”

“I really don’t see what’s in it for me.”

She pursed her lips. “Really? You don’t see the appeal in deflowering me, the girl you despise in all kinds of ways on her own merits, and the friend of Harry Potter and ex-girlfriend of Ron Weasley?”

Deflowering? He wasnt sure why learning that Hermione Granger was a virgin surprised him so much that his jaw actually went slack.

Maybe it had something to do with her propositioning him.

“Why?” he asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

He shook his head. “Fine. Never mind. I’m not doing it. You’re mental and should be locked up.”

“Obviously you need time to think.”

“I don’t need time to think.”

“I’ve watched you, Malfoy. You’re not one to turn down no-strings flings.”

“With you, I am. Have you even considered what you’re asking me to do here? Can you even imagine the two of us kissing?”

She looked like she really gave it some thought. Merlin, she honestly hadn’t thought about that, had she?

Finally she said, “We wouldn’t have to kiss. I don’t mind.”

He groaned. She was missing the point by a mile. “A good rule of thumb is never to sleep with anyone you wouldn’t want to kiss.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a stupid rule of thumb.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll kiss.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

She sighed. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re not attracted to me at all?”

He slowly nodded, not quite understanding why this would surprise her.

She began slowly unbuttoning the white button-down shirt she was wearing.

“What are you doing?” he warily asked, wondering if now was the time to bolt.

“Checking your theory.”

“Uh, Granger, when a bloke says he isn’t interested, it’s not really a theory...”

“Fine, checking my theory, then.”

“And what theory would that be?”

“That you’re full of it.”

He didn’t know what to reply. Skin was beginning to show. She had freckles just above her breasts, which were cupped by a cute white lace bra. They had a nice un-padded shape. They looked perky. He wondered if they would be as perky without the bra, or if they would sag. Some breasts sagged a lot, even if they weren’t very big. But hers didn’t look like they’d sag. And they weren't as small as he'd thought.

“It might help your case if you could stop staring at my boobs, Malfoy.”

He blinked and looked away, feeling his own cheeks heat. “I’m eighteen years old, Granger. I’ll stare at anything that even resembles a breast.”

“Hmm.” She undid the last button and allowed the shirt to slide down to the floor, reaching behind herself.

He almost choked on his own saliva. “What are you doing?”

Her bra came undone and slid down to join her shirt.

Two round, perky freckled breasts were staring him right in the face. Or maybe he was staring right at them. He wasn’t quite certain any longer. His world was comprised of breasts.

“Yes,” she calmly said as if she weren’t half-naked. “I definitely see your disinterest. Especially around the groin area.”

He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn’t squeak. “Involuntary reaction, Granger.”

She snorted at him. “That may be, Malfoy, but you could’ve walked out at any time you wanted, yet didn’t.”

Walk out? He could walk? He had feet? With a last glance at the glory in front of him, he turned on his heel and walked off.

* * *

Hermione's cheeks were blazing and she was almost shaking with embarrassment combined with an odd excitement as she re-dressed.

She'd just stripped down in front of Draco Malfoy.

That had to be one of the most reckless things she'd ever done, even taking everything she did in the war into account, but she was unable to regret it. It had been exhilarating to see that look on his face.

He could claim not to want her all he wanted, but she'd seen the way his pupils had dilated as he licked his lips and seemed unable to tear his gaze away from her.

And there had definitely been a bulge in his trousers.

She hadn't quite expected him to walk away, though. She'd thought he would go for it. She'd thought a boy like him would appreciate the easy sex and his rejection had certainly managed to surprise her.

Yet Hermione Granger didn't mind surprises and she certainly never backed down from a challenge. She'd seen the physical proof of his arousal and that was all she needed. Regardless of what he said about 'involuntary reactions', she didn't believe for one second in the nonsensical statement that men were powerless when it came to the will of their dicks. That was just yet another way for them to refuse to take responsibility for their own actions. No, if he didn't want her to pursue him, he'd have to do much better than drooling at the sight of her naked skin.

This would be fun.

* * *

Draco sat rigid in his seat and stared straight ahead at the blackboard without seeing a thing.

His day had become surreal.

It had started out in a common enough way, with him waking up tired from a long night of being subjected to someone's clogged sinuses and eating a breakfast that had gone cold... and then it had gone all downhill from there.

Lina was avoiding him. Pretty, soft, willing Lina. Oh, how he mourned the loss.

And if that wasn't enough, Granger was now openly harassing him, making people talk. He didn't want to be associated with her, damn it, but there were limits to what he could do without pissing off all the people that controlled his future.

She'd sat next to him in every class they had together, and he was powerless to stop her.

She put a piece of parchment between them.

"What's wrong?" she wrote on it. "You look tired."

He ignored it. Maybe if he ignored her, she'd go away.

"You can borrow my bed..." she wrote.

"Leave me alone!"

So maybe he wasn't very good at ignoring people.

"I'm amused at how scary you find my breasts."

Scary? That was a fairly apt description. They'd haunted his dreams and made him wake up bathed in sweat.

"What is it you want?"

"You know what I want."

In this case, even knowing made it hard for him to believe. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"Weasley."

"Ron and I have broken up."

"Sorry to hear that."

"No, you aren't."

"Believe me. I am." He really was. If she'd had her Weasley, she wouldn't have been pursuing him like this.

She sighed and wrote, "I don't understand you. I saw your reaction and I know you're not exactly fond of most of the other girls you have relations with."

Relations? That was one way to put it. But he didn't reply.

"You have a hearing coming up this summer," she continued writing. "I could give you a positive statement."

"Let me guess—as opposed to the negative one you'll give if I don't sleep with you?"

She shot him a disgusted look. "As opposed to no statement at all, genius. What do you take me for?"

He wasn't quite certain so he didn't reply.

She wasn't discouraged. "I'm trying to catch you with sugar, not vinegar."

"Catch me?"

"I liked the way you looked at me."

"I didn't. You were imagining things."

"No, I wasn't. But I was once I got back to my room. Were you?"

He flushed, feeling very uncomfortable about discussing this right here. Especially since he could feel his body reacting to the memory. "Not here!"

"Where, then?"

"Mr Malfoy!" Draco was torn out of his vivid memories of perky, freckled breasts by Professor Vector's stern voice.

"Yes?" he stammered, well-knowing that his face was beet red.

"Is there anything you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

Oh, Merlin, no!

"He was asking me to explain to him the exact properties of the number nine using Wenlock's numerical chart," Granger said, absentmindedly tapping at the parchment between them with her wand. "He didn't quite understand the explanation in the book."

Professor Vector picked up the parchment and Draco felt ready to die as she read it. This had to be the biggest humiliation he'd ever suffered, and he'd suffered a few.

"Hmm," Professor Vector said. "Very good explanation, Ms Granger, but I'd appreciate it if you kept this out of class."

"Yes, Professor. I'm sorry, Professor," Granger said as if nothing was amiss.

Professor Vector put the parchment back down and Draco saw that it did indeed contain charts and explanations. He quickly glanced at Granger who shrugged and smirked in a way that said, you didn't really think I wouldn't plan for something like that?

Insufferable know-it-all.

* * *

Every Tuesday and Friday night Draco had to report to the Headmistress. It was part of the deal that allowed him to continue here. She'd evaluate his class participation, marks, and statements from the teachers, as well as any other things she felt relevant.

He hated being subject to such scrutiny, but he knew better than to complain. Instead, he had to simply sit there, week after week, suffering the indignity of having his every word and action analysed and recorded.

At least Granger hadn't reported him for being out after hours or teasing her at the library. Yet.

"You seem to be doing much better," Professor McGonagall stated, looking over her parchments. "Your attitude has been vastly approved."

More like smothered.

"Trying my best, Professor."

"That's good to hear, Mr Malfoy." She put away the reports she'd been reviewing. "But here's the thing. I am a busy woman, and I won't be here the next few weeks."

No scrutiny? "Oh?" He felt something resembling hope begin to grow. Even a few weeks' respite from these meetings would make him feel tremendously better.

"Yes, but these check-up meetings are mandatory for you."

"Oh." He deflated. Of course she wasn't going to bend the rules for him.

"I considered having another teacher oversee your case, but frankly, most of them are busy and don't need the extra headache."

"Then what?" He knew he sounded flat and contrary, but he didn't care.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" Professor McGonagall said.

Draco half-turned his head and saw Granger enter the room. Great. He just loved for her—for anyone, really—to see him in this position.

"Ah, there you are, Ms Granger," McGonagall said, instantly making Draco suspicious. Why would Granger need to be here now? "As I was saying," McGonagall continued, directed at Draco, "I was looking for someone to meet with you and evaluate you twice a week whilst I'm gone, and the Head Girl has asked me to assign her a detentionee to help tidy up the books at the library whilst Madam Pince is on extended sick leave."

"I'm not a detentionee."

"You'll do. Ms Granger will report directly to me, so I would advise against giving her any grief. Think of this as a different way to evaluate you."

"But—"

Professor McGonagall completely ignored him. "I suggest you start tonight. Our library is fairly large and Ms Granger tells me that students aren't very good at putting the books in their rightful places. You’re dismissed."

He slowly got up and walked straight out without even looking at Granger. He couldn't believe the girl's gall!

"Well..." he said after they'd walked for a while in silence. "I don't know how you pulled it off, but I guess you now have complete power over me."

She immediately, forcefully slapped the back of his head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed before he could help himself. "What was that for?"

"For being a complete ninny. I hardly asked her for you! And what exactly is it you keep accusing me of trying to do? I'm not you. I don't need to force someone to sleep with me."

"Oh, you're saying that I do?"

"I'm saying that you certainly think like someone who does!"

"I get plenty of offers, thanks. I even recall the Head Girl throwing herself at me."

Granger snorted. "And I recall you being too scared to take her up on it."

"Please. Like I need for someone with that kind of power to get jealous and use whatever means necessary to ruin my life."

She stopped walking and grabbed his arm to make him stop as well. "Is that what you think will happen?"

He moved his arm from her grasp. "I know girls." He attempted to continue walking but suddenly felt himself backed up against a wall, facing a Head Girl standing too close.

He'd never have figured her to be so aggressive. True, she had slapped him that one time but that had been... different.

"That would never happen," she very earnestly said. "You can be with whoever you want, whenever you want."

"Yeah? Funny, last I checked, you were actively scaring my prospects away."

She had the courtesy to blush. "All right, so maybe I did do that. But only when you were breaking the rules. And I didn't report you to the Headmistress even though I've been specifically told to do that."

"It's so nice to be persecuted."

"Congratulations, Malfoy. You now have an inkling of what it was like to be a Muggle-born under Voldemort. There's hope for you yet!"

Now it was his turn to flush. "Doesn't make it right," he muttered.

"It's my job to get on your case. Keep a low profile and I won't have any reason to come after you."

"And if you have your way?"

"I've never been adverse to preferential treatment towards those that please me."

"Remind me never to vote for you for Minister for Magic."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, now, Malfoy. That would be exactly the kind of minister you'd want. Besides, it's not really the same thing. I don't honestly see it damaging my integrity to turn a blind eye to you sneaking out with some girl at night."

"Doesn't it bother you to negotiate with me like this to get me to have sex with you?"

She blinked as if honestly surprised. "No. Should it?"

He shook his head at her. She honestly didn't seem to function on any level he'd call normal. "Don't you want your first time to be with someone who wants you?"

She shrugged and let her gaze slide down his frame and up again to meet his eyes. "You want me."

"I do not!"

"Part of you does. The important part."

He flushed even deeper than before. "I'd have that reaction to any girl stripping down in front of me. Any girl!"

"I never said you wouldn't. But I also know that you would go for almost any girl, so it's a curious thing how you keep digging your heels in when it comes to me." She cocked her head, looking at him in that way again.

"You're freaking me out, Granger," he finally said, edging to the side and then resuming his walk towards the library. She was freaking him out. And turning him on. It was a bad, bad combination and he wished he could simply run away from her.

She caught up with him and grinned. "I know. It's so funny. You'd think you'd never have a girl come on to you before."

"Oh, not quite like this."

"It's a pity," she stated. "I've done some research on the matter and it seems that males are always encouraged to be the aggressors, not taking 'no' for an answer, whilst females are encouraged to be cautious and even reluctant. I don't think I like that model. I find being the aggressor quite exhilarating."

"Uh-huh." He could believe that.

"I only wish you weren't so reluctant, because I'm seriously beginning to need release. And I don't mean the kind I can give myself. I've tried and it wasn't enough."

His eyes widened before he could check his reaction. "Damn it, Granger, I did not need to know that!"

"No? I thought you might appreciate the mental image of me touching myself..."

No, no, he did not. He didn't need the image of her touching those lovely, round, freckled breasts, before her hand slid down between her legs and she threw her head back and moaned...

He was almost running the last stretch to the library, not quite certain what kind of salvation he was hoping to find there. They would still be all alone.

This was torture.

* * *

Hermione smothered a laugh as Malfoy's stride lengthened, bringing him in front of her.

It was so much fun to make him blush.

Not to mention that he could deny it all he wanted, but it turned him on to be pursued. She was inexperienced, not stupid. She could see the way he looked at her and the way his hands fisted. He claimed he didn't have the least inclination to kiss her, but everything in his body language contradicted that.

He took several steps inside the library before he turned around and demanded, "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

She raised an eyebrow. Nah, too easy. She pointed towards the door behind the librarian's desk. "In there are the newly returned books. They need to be shelved."

He nodded and strode over and opened the door. Then he stopped in his tracks and scowled at her. "What are you trying to pull, Granger?"

She pursed her lips. "Madam Pince has been out for a while, Malfoy. I only have the time to do this some days, and the other teachers can generally only give a few hours a week as well."

"Other teachers? Thinking highly of ourselves, are we?"

"Other than Madam Pince, nitwit."

"Madam Pince isn't a teacher."

She gave him her best death glare for being so pedantic, but he merely smirked back.

"Anyway," she said, "those books will now be your problem."

"I think you mean our problem."

Now it was her time to smirk. "No. I really do mean your problem." Then she went over to a nearby shelf, picked out a book and sat down to read.

Maybe that would teach him not to be so annoying.

* * *

Draco shook his head and got to work. For someone who claimed to be trying to seduce him, she certainly wasn't very keen on being nice to him. He even almost said as much, but then he realised that she might see it as encouragement.

Damn. Baiting Granger with her supposed attraction to him had been one of his favourite pastimes. Who would've thought she would take him seriously? He glanced at her, where she was sitting, as he was taking a stack of books past her. She was wearing a skirt today. It was insane to wear a skirt in this draughty castle at this time of year, but looking at her, he could see why she was doing it.

She'd turned her chair to face the chair next to her and was resting her left foot on its spindle, making the skirt fall back to reveal a good part of her thigh. It was a really nice thigh. All shapely and soft-looking...

Sudden pain hit him square in the face and he dropped his books and swore.

"Be careful with those!" Granger called out, humour colouring her voice.

He scowled at her, feeling his face heat up for who knew what time. She'd probably seen him walk straight into that bookcase and figured out why. Damn her!

* * *

Oh, this was the best day ever. If anything, Hermione was sorry that she'd never discovered how much fun it was to play with Malfoy before.

Obviously the boy was more controlled by his nether regions than he'd like to admit.

To his credit and her disappointment, he decided to completely ignore her after that and managed to neither blush nor walk into things. It didn't take long for her to reach a point where she was actually considering pulling her skirt far enough up to show knickers. Just to see how he'd react, of course.

But in order for him to react, he'd have to see it, and currently he was much too good at completely avoiding looking at her.

She tried yawning and stretching. No result. Then she slowly got up and sauntered over to put her book in place, striking a pose that showed her body off to its best advantage. No result. Then, finally, she walked up to the ladder he was currently climbing to put a book in its place.

She narrowed her eyes at the book binding and rolled her eyes. "Wrong spot, Malfoy."

He looked down at her. "Nice try."

He was bound to have a good view of her cleavage. The thought made her smirk. "Not trying anything here, Malfoy."

"This book should go under F."

"Yes, it should. But it should go under F in the Magical Theory section, not the Potions and Elixirs section."

He looked down at the book. "Oh. Oops."

She pursed her lips. "How many do you reckon you put wrong?"

He half-shrugged and began climbing down. "How many do you reckon I put on the shelves?"

She gaped. Was he serious? "Oh, come on, Malfoy! They can't all be wrong!"

"I don't really know, do I?"

"For crying out loud! You'd think you'd never used the library before!"

"Never in this way. Besides, weren't you supposed to supervise me?"

They had a glaring contest. Then after a few moments, Hermione lost her patience and threw up her hands. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it, is there? We have to go through every shelf to sort them out. It's probably sorely needed anyway."

He blanched slightly. "Tonight? It's already late."

"Yes, well, it'll be later since you just set us back."

"How much later? I have classes in the morning!"

"Half an hour. And you will turn up early on Friday." She felt extremely fair.

"Deal, I suppose."

She snorted and began climbing a ladder off to the left.

"What are you doing?" He actually looked confused.

"Do you honestly think you'll ever be done on your own?"

"Oh, so now you can help?"

"Don't be such a pain. I would've helped from the start if you hadn't annoyed me."

"Look at who does get off on her power..."

"Shut up and start sorting, Malfoo—oh!" She'd attempted to angrily turn while she spoke to him and it had made the ladder wobble dangerously.

Oh, how she hated heights even on the best of days. But she wasn't so much of a coward that she couldn't climb a damn ladder.

"Look out or you'll fall," he lazily said, leaning against a bookcase, merely watching her.

And they said chivalry was dead.

"Hold on to it!" she commanded, very conscious that it was wobbling a bit again.

"Isn't it a bit counter-productive if I'm only holding ladders?"

"No, I find it vastly more productive than you merely standing there."

He shrugged and came over to loosely hold on to the ladder. "I'm not catching you if you fall."

"Oh, you'll catch me," she replied. "Or you'll risk it going on your record that you were responsible for it."

"I'm not responsible for anything!" he indignantly said.

"Yeah, that's the conclusion people will jump to!"

He growled. "If that's how everyone will feel, then why don't I just—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because the unthinkable happened and her foot slipped. She wildly grasped for some kind of hold and was unfortunate enough to get it. With all of her weight yanking down on her wrist, she felt something give and then there was pain.

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