Contingent | D.M. + H.G.

Chapter 4: In For the Kill

Draco observed as Hermione looked up at him and blanched as she processed his offer. He felt her fingertips burn into the skin on his wrist briefly as she grabbed it, using it as leverage to push herself away from his tight hold and unusually intrusive eyes. He knew his eyes were always his giveaway. He'd essentially perfected his mask by now, especially with Bella and Snape's help, but they say the eyes were the windows to the soul for a reason. It was why he practiced occlumency so fervently and obsessively, it was his only chance at hiding it.

She scoffed, "Hell no. You'd be so lucky if I ever were to soil myself with the likes of you," she turned away from him for what felt like the millionth time tonight. He could hear in her voice that she wasn't as disgusted as her words construed - in fact, she seemed intrigued. They had been dancing back and forth and around each other for far longer than he wanted to admit.

He could tell that she was a bit dazed. He had never intentionally turned the full force of his charm her way before, and it was throwing her for a loop Draco knew she hadn't expected. "You're right," he teased, lust very plainly coating his voice, "I probably would be. That's why they call it getting lucky, Granger, didn't you know?"

She froze, her step stuttering, and then she continued walking. Away from him. He decided then and there that he did not like that.

"Oh hell no you don't Granger," he growled, grabbing her wrist as she stormed away and twisting her harshly back to face him. "You're not getting away quite that easily you fucking tease," he smashed his lips into hers, giving her no room to hesitate or question this as he yanked her blindly inside the nearest classroom. He could give two shits which one it was, it didn't matter.

This was not a delicate kiss. It wasn't slow, it wasn't tender, or soft. 

It was hard, hot, fast, burning, intense. It was built of a fire that was burning from the embers of pure need and hate and primal instinct alone. Their bodies both knew what was coming next - but they were both choosing to ignore who exactly was on the other side of the kiss.

He dug his fingers tightly into her hips, making her gasp. He took advantage of her momentary lapse to slip his tongue into her mouth, biting her lip roughly on his way in. It took her a moment before she was returning his advances just as greedily. He moved them both backwards until he was pressing her hard into the wall. "Do you want this?" he muttered against her lips, a prayer. "Tell me you want this."

In answer, Hermione's fingers abruptly started pulling at the knot on his tie, tearing at the top button of his shirt in a desperate attempt to get it off him. He returned the favor, except he was more concerned with pulling her skirt up to hitch it around her waist. He ran his fingertips over the shallow half-moons he had left earlier as they ventured downwards, humming in satisfaction as he felt the marks he'd left on her.

Finding what he craved underneath it, he chuckled darkly. "I should have known," he said, "It's always the good girls who like it rough. Do you like it rough, Granger? Be honest," he purred into her ear, his left hand rising to wrap itself around her throat as he continued to press his right hand up against her, "I really don't like liars."

She whimpered, her hand coming up to tighten around his wrist as he stroked her lazily over her panties. "I don't know," she stuttered, swallowing thickly and averting her gaze from his. "Maybe but...I-I've only...once." She gathered what was left of her bravery and met his eyes again, heat rising to her cheeks.

"Oh?" he queried, his lips spreading deliberately into a slow smirk. "I have to say I'm quite honored, Granger. Although I have to say, I'm rather annoyed that I'm subjected to Weasley's sloppy seconds." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows defiantly.