Write For Me

Four

   Over the next few days, Hermione found herself in a constant state of confusion and arousal. Everytime she thought back to their previous encounter, she couldn't help the thought of his erectionpressed right up against her, where she had needed it at that time, like he knew. 

   The fact he was hard in the first place was the reason she had tried to goad him. She could see itfrom where she stood above him as he was sat in the library chair. She could tell his was trying tohide it at first, and that was why she had decided to try and play with him, see how far she couldpush him before he snapped ... and he really, really did. 

   She had expected the smirk and the cocky retorts. She had expected the answers he had given her,because she had heard the rumours about what he was like in the bedroom. What she hadn'texpected was the control slipping from him and the way he was letting her almost take it forherself. 

   And she had liked it. 

   She had liked the fact that she had gotten to him. She had liked the way he looked at her like hewas either going to kill her or ... fuck her. 

   And oh, the thoughts that were going through her head. Her confidence had come from nowherebut she had certainly been affected. The look in his eyes and the self-restraint he was showing andthe Aura he was giving off ... she could have drowned in it. 

   Draco Malfoy certainly liked words ... he got off on them. They affected him more than he wouldprobably admit. They made him feral ... and she liked it. 

   But the way he growled before getting up and grabbing her thighs and put her onto the desktop ...that was an experience she would never forget. She could almost still feel his hands on her thighs,burning into her. She could almost still feel how good it felt to feel his body so close to hers ... 

   No... 

   No, this was going to get her nowhere. She needed to concentrate on the Malfoy in her story. Theway the Malfoy in her story would react and move. 

   In her story he was Draco. 

   In her story, Draco moved, talked and had the same sexual magnetism as Malfoy ... but he wasn'tMalfoy. Malfoy was a cold and complicated bigot with absolutely no manners and lacking any sortof humanity at all. To her, anyway.

   Her Draco was better. 

   She needed to remember that and not let the lines get crossed. She was writing him a story, notactually living this story with him... even though right now, she really wanted to.Using her sordid imagination for her own private pleasure wouldn't hurt anybody, would it? Itwouldn't cast her further adrift until she was able to get back to shore, would it? 

   The thought of him taking her just one time and showing her exactly what he was made ofwouldn't drive her crazy and make her want it all the more, would it? 

   She knew the answer, because she was already right there. As much as she had wound him up, shehad wound herself up too. She'd opened Pandora's box and now she was struggling to close itagain. 

   Hermione stretched in her chair and looked around her room. The clock was telling her it wasalmost nine at night. Malfoy was expecting her to have this with him by tomorrow and she wasnowhere near finished. Too busy thinking about how good he would be in bed instead of actuallywriting it about it. 

   Get your head in the game, Hermione ... and make his explode while you're at it ... 

   But it was no good. She just couldn't put the good stuff on paper.