Hermione had known Malfoy to be late and careless but never this late. It was twenty minutes into defence against the dark arts class and she'd had spent that entire time thinking about him. For whatever reason she didn't know, all she knew was that he suspiciously wasn't here.
She fidgeted, fiddled, anything to help make the time go faster — even wished she had some of Malfoy's blue pills to chill her out.
She didn't care about many people anymore and here she was, caring?
Sliding further into her chair, she sprung back up when Professor Snape asked her a question and she fumbled on her words, unlike herself for sure, but of course still got the answer correct.
Just as she answered, Malfoy walked into the class with messy hair and a sharp cut across his lip.
He'd been in some sort of a fight she assumed from his split lip and a cut near his eyebrow, and she couldn't help but think it suited his image. Half the people in the class were scared of him and now she could understand why.
She tilted her head at his picture perfect lean physique and he caught her eyes immediately, not subtly by any means.
No doubt Professor Snape would let him off easy as Draco raised his eyebrows carelessly at the class and took a seat beside Pansy, who had very clearly saved it just for him.
Hermione huffed a little, resting on her palm, her eyes fixated on his muscular back. What was the point in concentrating in class anyway when a war was brewing and this knowledge would be completely wasted when it actually came to fight?
Her free periods had grown longer or more frequent as teachers were beginning to cancel lessons for whatever reason, so she doubted it would be long until they'd stop all together.
Muggleborn's had already been warned to return home. Not her though. Not with parents that didn't even know she existed. And plus, everyone expected Gryffindors golden girl to fight. Just like Malfoy had mentioned last night.
Malfoy was flexing his arms back in his chair, as Snape's voice drowned on she couldn't help but focus on them. She felt pathetic.
But at least she was distracted, for once.
Eventually he turned around, smirking, looking in her eyes directly. She looked away uncomfortably, he was teasing her of course — using a finger to smudge the blood a little from his lip. She gulped, because even though she wasn't looking, she could see he was still twisted around, with eyes on her.
One thing was for sure, she couldn't wait to ask him later what he'd been up to — assuming he'd actually tell her. Malfoy never made things easy.
~
The bath water was scolding hot, soaking off all the guilt she held from last night. The bubbles high around her neck, her hair lathered in honey shampoo. She needed to feel clean, cleansed of sins that her past self would never even dream of.
She was due in the library in approximately an hour with Nott and Malfoy. Although she wondered how long Nott would stick around for, the library didn't really seem his sort of vibe.
He was too energetic to sit for long and he hated reading. Unlike Malfoy who seemed rather content in his own company from her analysis — he was rather intelligent in classes anyway and seemed to be ok alone reading, taking drugs or just bloody scowling at anything that breathes.
She dipped her head under and counted, wondering how long she could breathe here, warm and comforted by the silence ringing in each ear. Although she knew she had to get out and face the long evening ahead eventually. After an entire body shave and moisturise, she was left feeling miles better than before.
Hermione stood in front of the mirror, analysing her slim shape and the curves that Draco had seemed to admire last night. She wasn't keen on her body, but she supposed she knew how to dress it well.
Her nipples were pebbled and cold out of the water and she slipped on a dark grey bra, nothing under wired or push up or any of that crap — just something comfortable that held her up well.
Revealing enough, not that it would be revealed. She was adamant on that.
Matching cotton panties that sat high on her hip bones and then she was picking a more comfortable outfit, especially after last nights events in her shorter skirt. That was too accessible.
Hermione boded for loose tracksuit bottoms. A light grey that snugged in her waist and loosely hung around her legs. A black tank top and her favourite oversized dark cardigan, likely littered with small holes but she didn't care.
She pulled up her hair, tightly scraping back the wet mess before using a sleek drying spell to relax her tumbling curls.
Hermione bounced out the dorm door, fresh faced with bronzed cheeks and small smile — leaving her friends confused at her happier mood they hadn't seen appear this entire year. But of course Hermione couldn't tell them why she was feeling like this, not when she hardly even knew herself.
Upon entering the library, her mood seemed to change dramatically. She was nervous now, her skin ice cold because two Slytherins were waiting for her at the back of the library and she could smell smoke.
Hermione took steady steps until she was peering around the corner and making clear eye contact with Malfoy.
He was sat lent back on two legs of the chair, the table around him already cluttered with books and research. He'd made a start, obviously.
His platinum hair was hanging softly over his forehead, his grey eyes carved with sensual dark circles. She analysed the cut on his lip and through his brow, he looked so broken and yet so devilishly handsome — a lit cigarette held and burning between his teeth. It was extremely frustrating for her, she practically felt herself sigh heavily with disappointment.
He was wearing black too, a shirt tight around his shoulder muscles. Although she doubted she could remember a time he'd ever worn another colour; Malfoy had a whole love affair with the colour black.
He seemed to be analysing her too, his eyes darted across her body as she walked closer. Reigning in on her protruding collar bones and over her hips.
She wrapped her cardigan tighter around her body protectively as her eyes wandered to Theo's grin, sat opposite Draco.
He was wearing his Slytherin quidditch hoodie, also with a cigarette lit between his teeth. Intimidating would be a good word to describe the pair as she shyly greeted them and sat beside Theo and opposite Draco.
"Granger darling, you're looking as gorgeous as ever. How has potter seriously not made a move yet?"
Theo grinned, looking to Malfoy for a reaction who gave nothing away.
Hermione's cheeks flashed red and she shrugged a little, not in the mood for a debate.
"Any progress?" She queried quickly, flicking her eye contact between the pair, trying not to cough from the lines of smoke around her.
"Don't ask me." Theo shrugged and gestured to Draco who raised his eyebrows intimidatingly at her, before sliding across a black book with gold lettering, a language she didn't understand but was sure was french and a book she hadn't seen before.
"Found this at the manor library today."
He proceeded.
Ah so that's where he'd been today, why he'd been late to class?
"With what you translated last night, this has similar information on the Morsmordre spell. The same symbol summoned in the sky by the Dark Lord as the mark. It's written in french, some of the information is priceless. My father won't notice it's missing if we keep it for a while."
Hermione nodded slowly. "You speak french?"
Draco nodded slowly. "Yes."
Theo realised the cigarette from between his teeth. "Talented man this one Granger."
She opened the book, she understood odd words but certainly wasn't fluent. Malfoy grinned as he noticed, "I'll make notes on this Granger," he swung the book back towards him and rested his hands behind his head, "You continue translating the properties. Eventually we'll find something to get this shit off."
She gulped, looking at the pair. "Why do you want them off, your dark marks?"
Theo chucked a little. "We may dislike the order Granger but getting forced to kill people by your own family is most definitely something we don't want hanging over us for the rest of our lives. And they fucking burn."
"Yeh. Azkaban is fucking hell," Malfoy continued to Theo, "My father spent a year there."
She nodded understandably, although hearing them slate the orders efforts certainly reminded her who she was sat with. That and the mention of killing.
"But the magic he used is supposed to be irreversible." She proceeded.
Malfoy smirked tilting his head to this side, eyes burning into her lips, "If it's so irreversible Granger then why are you stuck around helping us?"
She gulped then shrugged shyly and then continued to read. Malfoy seemed extremely satisfied with that, whilst Theo seemed positively bored.
Hermione was working well, making progress, but almost stopped breathing when she felt the tip of Malfoy's shoe run along her leg. She looked up, but he wasn't looking back. Theo hadn't noticed. She sucked in a sharp breath as he clenched his jaw tightly.
Then he was looking at her. Eyes crawling over every inch of her figure, running along her neck and down to the beginnings of her bust that were attempting to push out. No— she couldn't concentrate.
It was an entire hour of sharing quick glances, eyes flitting over one another's features they had perhaps before looked over. Theo went about unotticing, babbling confidently about god knew what, basically doing anything apart from helping the cause that was proving harder by each passing minute.
It wasn't long before Theo stood and yawned. "Right, I'm out. Malfoy, you coming common room? Daphne and Pans waiting for you no doubt?"
Hermione gulped and Draco met her eyes quickly. "Nah mate, I really want to get somewhere with this."
"Fair enough," Theo continued, "Shall I tell Daph to wait up?"
Draco clenched his jaw and shook his head. "No."
"Thanks for the help Granger, I'll see you tomorrow sweetheart?"
"Alright Nott," Draco interrupted, "Piss off now."
"Night Theo." Hermione smiled, before looking back down to her page and continuing to analyse the runes until she heard the library door shut heavily behind him.
"Anything of use?" Draco pondered lightly to her rough scribbles of runes.
"From what the properties suggest, it's best to start looking for a potion formula. To counter how branded dark magic is created I think we need to start looking for ingredients," She breathed in sharply, "Looking at types of blood may be a good start? It's highly likely we'll need some type of creature blood to counteract the use of protean charm in the mark."
Draco nodded slowly, understandably. "You think a potion is the best way? Not some sort of spell, I thought about parceltongue charms?"
"A potion makes more sense with the type of branding Voldemort has used. But it won't be easy."
Draco scoffed, "Been trying this since I took the mark in 6th year, thanks for the clarification it won't be easy though."
Hermione looked up at him with raised eyebrows, tightening her loose ponytail. He watched her, slyly with each turn of each page of the book. Then the side of his shoe was rubbing against the side of her leg again, and she could feel her cheeks reddening.
She gulped. Before deciding to change to a lighter conversation.
"What did you do to your face?" She purred eagerly, analysing the nasty cuts through his lip and brow.
"What you mean how I got to be this devilishly good looking? None of your bloody business Granger."
"Happened at the manor right? Voldemort? Or your father?"
Draco smiled a little, eyebrows raised at her overwhelming curiosity. "Cleverer than you look Granger." He lent back carefully, "Waited for Theo to leave before you prowl?"
She shook her head, "No I just—
"None of your business." He repeated sharply, and so she left it there, a helpless slave to her nosy nature.
Draco smirked, running loose fingers through his platinum hair, "You've got a lot of nerve Granger."
She tilted her head softly, waiting.
He leaned forward.
"A lot of nerve to prowl when you know I've seen exactly how those cheeks flush," he trailed his finger along his split lip, "and exactly how those eyes sparkle when you cum."
She gulped heavily, jumping at the words and at how open he was, mesmerised by his grey eyes that were itching to undress her — or slam her head against the wall, it was difficult to tell.
"Did it feel good?" He smirked profusely, "When I made you cum what did it feel like?"
She gulped, her cheeks rosed up as she met his eyes. Malfoy could make her melt for him, he knew he could and she bloody hated it.
He lent further across the table toward her and let his eyes wonder.
"It was —" She stopped herself, blushing at the words, "good." She gulped out.
"Come on Granger," he laughed, "give me more than that. The noises you made were—
"Ok! It was incredible I don't know how you —
Draco pushed his finger against her lips and hushed her. He stood, moving and pulling her to stand with a fistful of her hair. Forcefully holding her neck, implementing the great size difference between them. She stopped breathing.
"Let me break you Granger," he pulled her closer to his face, fast breaths in sync, "You've always been so fucking perfect. Let me break you."
She felt her eyes spike with tears and he raised a gentle finger to wipe as the first tear as it fell, his other finger holding her head tightly to look up to his.
"I'm already broken Malfoy."
"Why are you like this?" He whispered sharply, "Why the fuck are you letting me touch you?"
"It's the only thing I can feel."
"Well fuck that Granger," He scowled down at her, "I don't wanna help you feel. I want to hurt you. I want to watch you crumble beneath my touch and I want to watch Potter's face when he realises it's me. I'm the one that broke his poor little Gryffindor princess."
Another tear fell and he wiped it slowly, wondering what Hermione Grangers tears tasted like— still holding her tightly, squeezing her jaw so angrily she thought he might crush it, but didn't mind.
"Will you let me hurt you?" He hissed.
"Yes. If it hurts you too."
"This already fucking has. You think my hands all over a mud blood won't hurt?"
She sniffed, her eyes innocent and wide.
He scoffed out a laugh, "This won't just hurt. This will get me fucking killed Granger."
"But I'll take it." He continued. "I'll take getting killed if I can hurt you."
"You can." She whispered, her plump lips swollen and begging to be felt. Begging to be tasted and hurt.
Malfoy pushed her back forcefully so that her head hit with a snap against the wall. She didn't even flinch, she'd hurt herself more.
He pulled her wrists and pinned them above her head, smirking to himself as he realised what he could do with her. How he could hurt her, all innocent and desperate for his touch.
He was breathless, millimetres away from her face. Malfoy squeezed her wrists so tightly above her head, her scars sore under his grip. He wanted her to bleed, to prove her blood wasn't muddy and give himself permission to touch her.
But how could her blood not be muddy when it was carved into her forearm?
He sucked in a sharp breath and loosened his grip around her wrists.
"Don't," she breathed out shakily, "don't stop the only thing I can feel."
He laughed a little and tightened his grip again.
"You are pathetic."
She wanted to cry but had nothing left. She was pathetic — she felt pathetic, begging for Draco Malfoy to touch her.
He delved down toward her pink lips and tasted her again, pushing his body forcefully against her and sliding his tongue across hers. He swore under his breath and into her small mouth, a mouth he so desperately wanted to fuck.
It was passionate. Fast.
And now they'd started they couldn't stop.
Now he'd dropped her wrists and was slipping off her cardigan, cold hands running along her arms and over her shoulders. Burning her flesh with each touch, each grip or pull closer. He craved her.
"Stop me." He breathed into her skin, placing hard kisses along her neck, "Tell me to stop. Please."
Hermione moaned softly with parted lips, pushing the back of her head against the wall as he sucked at the skin on her neck — his hands grabbing at her small waist and around her jaw to steady her moans.
"Tell me to fucking stop."
Her neck was sore from his kisses, her breath fast and eyes fixated on the way his arms pulled tightly against his shirt, the way his chiselled features looked down at her in the lowlight.
She was aching between her legs, her thighs sticky as he cradled the shape of her arse and continued to suck sharply at her skin.
Suddenly he was gripping around her neck as he analysed his mark on her. A neck littered with purple love bites. But it wasn't enough.
He snaked his hand tighter around her neck, pushing her back harder against the wall, squeezing to be sure to make his mark this time. He wanted to hurt her, so why was her heart beating so fast?
He held her tighter and squeezed harder, watching a little colour drain from her cheeks as she attempted to pant.
"TELL ME TO FUCKING STOP!"
He demanded again, "When I let you, you tell me to never touch you again."
He released her and she coughed out, her hand placed on his arm for balance as she regained her breath.
Malfoy reached and tucked a twisted curl that had grown loose from her ponytail back behind her ear. He watched her long lashes flutter, mesmerised and taken aback.
"Say it." He breathed again heavily.
"I always do the right thing," she breathed out shakily, "I'm sick of doing the right bloody thing."
Hermione huffed heavily, her eyes meeting his confidently. "And I don't want you to stop. I don't care what type of person that makes me, just don't stop."
Malfoy took a step back. Analysing her figure, her low tank top and purple splattered neck and red mark that had stained her purity. He was breathing fast, watching her in any way he could.
He couldn't understand why.
Malfoy stepped closer.
"Fine. But I've given you a chance Granger."
He looked at her again and felt his heart skip a beat.
"I might never stop."
Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. She didn't want him to ever stop. She missed his hands over her body and it had barely been seconds.
If she watched his eyes carefully enough, she could trace exactly where on her body he was looking. Searching her curves for an itch of something more.
He was hungry, licking his lips at her as he moved closer still.
Then, a sudden snap of sound and they heard the library door creep open. Malfoy gulped and he took a step away from her, head turned toward the noise.
Pansy called out to them, or at least it sounded like Pansy— she'd obviously become known of Draco's whereabouts.
Who was Hermione kidding? She'd heard them fucking here before so she was probably back for seconds.
But she looked to Draco and his face was pure panic.
"Draco? You in here?" Parkinson purred out seductively.
Hermione's face dropped watching his throat contract as Pansy's footsteps arrived closer. Of course, how would Draco explain to Pansy why he was here alone with her and why her neck was littered with his mark...
Quick thinking forced her to grab her cardigan from the library floor, wrapping it around herself and covering her sore neck as quick as possible.
Soon Pansy was slithering against the bookshelf in satin black pyjamas, hair knotted into a tight bun as her thin lips played into an intriguing smile.
Draco rubbed the back of his burning neck,
"Ah, Pans." He greeted loosely.
Pansy smirked confidently to Hermione, then Draco as she paced forward to place her hand delicately on his arm. Her long nails were digging in for sure.
"You know," She looked Hermione up and down and at her awkward twiddling fingers, "When Theo told me— I couldn't quite believe it."
"I mean," She looked up to Draco with loving eyes, "Working alongside Granger?"
Malfoy sighed and chuckled a little, relaxing into Pansys grip. "You know she's a fucking nerd Pans? Useful to have around and use."
He met her eyes.
Pansy laughed deceptively and took a step closer to Hermione. "I'm sure Potter wouldn't approve of your decision to help?"
She didn't give Hermione a chance to blink before she was addressing Draco again.
"We shouldn't trust her."
Malfoy smirked lightly and before she could say anymore, Hermione was gathering her bag and leaving them alone. She didn't want to be associated with either of them and quite frankly she'd rather let them fuck and be done with it — instead of being insulted by little miss perfect.
Long steady steps and she was nearly at the large doors, Pansy bellowed out behind her, "Oh — going so soon?"
Hermione stopped at the door and took a few heavy breathes before retreating to her dorm and perhaps to a few shots of fire whiskey.
Anything to help her forget what she'd done.
And so Draco was left with Pansy tracing patterns up his arm; a lingering scent of chamomile and Hermione's lips a longing ghost across his.