Disclaimer: Characters, places and various other things belong to J.K. Rowling, and not me. I don't make money out of this. Just a sick kind of pleasure everytime The Curse rolls around! 'The Big Hand' line could possibly be attributed to Sesame Street. I think the rest is mine, so please don't steal.
Author's Notes: Archived at ff.net and my site, Forbidden Love. This was started in a fit of PMT, and will probably only be written when I'm in a similar state of mind, so don't expect regular updates! *Grins* Reviews are greatly appreciated from all and sundry - *Hinthint!*

Sanguinis Masculus

Hermione had had enough. She was a woman at breaking point, and if Malfoy turned around to give her one more smirk, or Snape dealt her one more snide remark, or Ron even dared to tell her to pull herself together once more, she would swing for one, or all, of the offenders.

Hermione winced as another bolt of pain shot through her stomach. She gritted her teeth and stared into her lightly simmering cauldron, counting her stirs methodically in an attempt to take her mind off the pain.

I need chocolate. I need chocolate.

The mantra kept entering her mind, unbidden, and she fought against it with all her will.

Her eyes flicked up, just for a moment, as the pain began to recede again. She scowled at the back of Malfoy's head, his long, silver blond hair just begging to be touched. She scowled harder. Why was he so bloody, annoyingly attractive? It wasn't fair. Looks like that were meant to be bestowed on the knights in shining armor who would sweep you off your feet and carry you away into the sunset. Definitely not on slimy, smarmy, stupid, conniving sons of Death Eaters. Particularly one who happen to notice when you stare at them over meals, and use it greatly to their own advantage.

Bastard.

Her eyes had unfocused and her mind was going through its own obscene diatribe on why men were evil, so Hermione failed to notice when the head she was staring at so intently turned to look right back at her. Hermione snapped out of it and scowled into the penetrating ice blue gaze, her mind drifting to how those eyes had looked at her after he had kissed her.

Malfoy smirked.

That's it!

Casting her eyes around the room quickly to pin point the location of Professor Snape - looming over poor Neville making him as nervous as possible - she then turned back to Malfoy and smiled sweetly, removing her wand from her robes. She watched with relish as his eyes widened slightly, before she muttered softly under her breath, "Sanguinis Masculus."

A flurry of what looked like red snow flakes trickled from the tip of Hermione's wand, floated around Malfoy before seeping into him. The boy sat there, stock still, apparently waiting for something to happen.

Nothing.

The smirk returned full pelt as the bell rang for the end of class, and Snape shooed them away without a word. "Looks like you're losing your touch, Granger." Malfoy stood and bent, his lips close to her ear. "Pity. Such a warming touch it is, too."

The insinuation, however, did nothing to affect Hermione, and she simply sent a satisfied smile at Malfoy's retreating back.

"Right. Chocolate."

*********

Draco Malfoy sat at the fire in the Slytherin common room......thinking. It was something he rarely bothered to do - as a Malfoy, there were people who would do that for him. He had been feeling strange for the last few hours, though. Ever since potions ended. Angsty, he supposed, was the word. His mind turned to the mudblood Granger girl. It had been wrong of him. He had known it at the time - in fact, that had been the reason he had done it - but perhaps it had been a little beneath him. To get the girl all worked up, just so she would help him with his Arithmancy essay. To take advantage of her obvious lust for him. He shrugged.

What's done is done, as Lucius says. Frequently.

Draco's eyes rose towards the clock. The big hand was pointed firmly at 'bed time'. Draco, for once, was inclined to agree. He felt strangely lethargic tonight. Almost like he needed an energy boost from something, but he couldn't think what. Something sweet.

Stretching his arm above his head, Draco Malfoy walked to the dormitory hallway, smiling. Saturday tomorrow. He could sleep in.

*****

Draco frowned. Something was wrong. Someone was performing Cruciatus on a very select part of his abdomen. Wincing, Draco slid a hand into the waist band of his boxers and stroked across the smooth flesh. No spidery cruciatus scar, like the one on his back. The flesh was smooth, if not a little hot and very tender. He frowned and sat up, letting the blankets pool around his waist. There was no one around him to be inflicting this pain, no errent little pixie biting his stomach or anything. It must be coming from inside him.

Bugger.

Madam Pomfrey it was.

Draco shoved back the blankets and shifted to the side. Then froze.

What the fu....

There was something warm and sticky and unmistakably damp coating the front of his boxers. Draco paused, trying to remember what he had been dreaming about. Granted, he was a teenage male, but wet dreams weren't usually a problem. He had much more enjoyable ways to get rid of that particular area of adolescence. His smirked despite himself, thinking of Granger.

Looking down, Draco discovered this was most certainly not a wet dream. His forest green boxers had a large, black patch where the warm, sticky damp was. His eyes darted to the hand that had rubbed his stomach, and his eyes widened.

Red. Blood red.

Draco was no expert when it came to human biology, but something told him this was not good.

"Draco? C'mon, Draco, it's time for breakfast, I'm hungry."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at Goyle's whining. Suffice to say, having just discovered that he was bleeding from somewhere and he didn't know why, Draco was not ready for breakfast. Unless it happened to include chocolate.

Draco frowned. Where did that come from?

"Coming. Just give me a second."

Frowning, Draco quickly removed the blood stained article, scrunched it up and threw it to the corner of the bed where he hoped it would disappear. Draco's nose wrinkled as he looked down. The cut, or whatever it was, looked like it was probably somewhere on his dick. He squashed down the voice asking him why he hadn't felt any kind of cut, and used a tissue from the bedside table to clean himself up. Draco frowned again. The more he cleaned, the more blood seemed to appear. That couldn't be right.

"Come on, Draco!"

Malfoy grunted in frustration, and wrapped the tissue haphazardly around his dick. Mumbling 'accio' charms as he went, Draco quickly got dressed and joined his two 'friends' to go to breakfast.