Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts raised her head from her History of Magic tome and stared at the bookshelf before her with hypnotizing caramel-colored eyes.
That wouldn't have been so bad hadn't Draco Malfoy, Head Boy of Hogwarts, been hiding behind said bookshelf.
Had she seen him?
It was quite enough that his housemates knew of his obsession with the Golden Princess, he didn't need her thinking he was some stalker.
Which, of course, he wasn't. Malfoys aren't stalkers.
He just happened to enjoy following her everywhere.
Damn her. It was all her fault anyways. Why did she have to be so smart, beautiful and witty? Why did she have to be a Mudblood? It's supposed to be either one or the other!
What was he to do? He couldn't get the damned chit out of his head!
"I don't blame you Draco, she's a nice piece of arse," Zabini had said as he patted him in the back after he had caught him staring at the brunette during dinner.
He had felt like punching his best friend. He was the one supposed to stare at her arse, not Blaise!
The worse thing was that Granger was infinitely more likely to date Zabini than him. He, at least, hadn't called her a Mudblood for six years.
And they were partners in Arithmancy.
And he had seen her laugh at one of his stupid jokes yesterday!
Still, he couldn't punch him, for it was Blaise who had saved him from Pansy when she had noticed him staring at Granger in Transfiguration.
"Oh, I've just dared Draco that he doesn't get to shag Granger by the end of the week," the Italian boy had said lightly with a small shrug.
"Really, now?" Pansy had asked with a malicious gleam in her dark brown eyes, "how much?"
"Two hundred galleons," Blaise had answered with a smirk.
"Well, then. I'm in. Make that two hundred and fifty," Pansy had answered excitedly, "sorry, Draco," she had told him with a small smirk, and he just knew she wasn't sorry at all.
Damn her. She had turned into a major pain in the arse after he had dumped her.
And so, now every Slytherin seventh year and even a few sixth years knew about the bet.
And they had all raised the stacks.
And they had all bet against him.
Every single one of them!
Damn them. He was supposed to be their leader! Weren't minions loyal anymore?
On second thought, maybe he should punch Blaise.
Hermione Granger chose that moment to rise from her seat, put her book into her backpack, and exit the Library, hips swaying seductively as she retreated.
Draco followed her silently through the dark halls and into the Heads' quarters. He managed to slip behind her before the portrait closed.
She threw her backpack to the red couch.
"Having fun following me around like a lost puppy, Malfoy?" she asked casually.
Only then she turned, but didn't even look at him, as if he wasn't important enough.
OK. Time to employ the ever-useful Malfoy cold mask.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Granger. You must be more insane than I thought," Draco replied icily as he sat on the green couch.
Ha! There! He smirked for good measure.
Hermione just raised an eyebrow at him, sat besides her backpack and smirked back.
Oh, oh. A smirking Gryffindor. That means trouble, his father always said.
"Sure, Ferret," she replied as she again took her History of Magic book from her backpack and started flipping through it.
Her smirk didn't disappear, though.
"You just happen to enjoy spying people behind the Muggle Studies bookshelf then?"
"Shut up, Granger. You don't know what you're talking about," he told her, his voice wavering a little.
She smiled and threw her shapely legs over her backpack, giving him a nice, ample view of them.
"Of course, Malfoy," she replied and even laughed a little.
"I was just looking for a book," he said confidently.
"Right," she flipped another page.
"You know, your story would be significantly more believable if you actually took Muggle Studies,"
"Or if you stopped looking at my legs right now,"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Er, ah, yeah well…" he ran a hand through his hair not unlike Harry Potter did when nervous.
His hair, however, fell perfectly back in place.
"Damn you, Granger," he muttered and succumbed to his impulses.
He threw himself over the girl, kicking her backpack off the couch and taking the book from her hands savagely.
She just smirked, though.
"I suppose I'm still insane, right?"
He didn't answer. His brain power was focused in staring at her rosy lips and fondling the arse Blaise so much admired. His throat was painfully constricted, and he could barely breathe.
So he kissed her instead.
It wasn't gentle or loving; it was a collision of lips, it was demanding, it was unyielding, it was firm.
Caramel eyes wide open; she smiled into the kiss and responded languidly, indolently- as if she was absolutely indifferent to his actions.
This only made Draco angrier, of course, and he kissed her harder; biting and sucking and making sure her lips would bruise. He ripped her blouse off, freed her from her bra, and took off his shoes, all at the same time.
She laughed and grabbed him by the belt, pulling him close, so close.
He quickly took off his Oxford, trousers and boxers. She laughed even harder at his impatience, and he wanted to make her shut up, to punish her.
She shouldn't be laughing, she should be scared, or awed, or both!
But then those lovely breasts of her were pressed against his chest, and her right foot grazed his right calf, and Merlin, honey and jasmines; she smelled so good… He wanted to sink into her, melt in her, drown in her, and he was terrified as realization struck him, and he comprehended he didn't just want, but he needed. Her hands trailed down his back slowly, drawing circles with her manicured nails, and bloody hell, she had just sank said nails in his arse…
All coherent thought was banished as he hissed in her ear and ripped her lacy panties, leaving red marks on her soft skin.
He was congratulated with a surprised cry that made him smirk.
He didn't bother removing her plaited school skirt. She looked pretty damn sexy in it, anyways.
He groaned when he felt her heat and he pushed his impossibly hard cock into her in one swift thrust and she moaned softly, so softly; eyelids fluttering like two small butterflies.
She had never looked so vulnerable before, and he loved it.
His groan came from the back of his throat, and Hermione bit his shoulder, drawing blood as if to make it clear she wasn't vulnerable.
He found out he loved that too.
They both enjoyed the addicting mix of pleasure and pain before Draco started moving again, thrusting and slamming into her more violently than he had originally intended.
"Fuck, Granger… so bloody tight," he managed to pant as he continued his urgent strokes, concentrated in not coming before her. And goddamnit, it was hard.
"Shut up, Ferret" Hermione whispered, voice cracking as she let out a small breathy moan and hooked an ankle around his thigh, dragging him deeper with every thrust.
They shared a gasp of anticipation and Draco tangled his hands in her long, soft, curly chocolate-brown hair kissing her forehead fervently as both reached their high. Someone screamed, but for his life, he couldn't figure out whom. He shut his eyes tight and slumped against her, breathing hard against her neck.
He didn't bother withdrawing from her, and she didn't bother telling him to move. He just buried his face in lovely dark brown hair, and she just waved her hand and wordlessly conjured her red and gold comforter to throw on top of them.
How the hell she could gather the concentration necessary to perform silent, wandless magic after what they had just done was the last thing Draco thought before succumbing to sleep.
When Draco Malfoy woke up next morning, it was to find he was alone and late for Potions.
The bloody girl hadn't even bothered to wake him up!
As he ran to Potions, looking significantly less well-groomed than usual, he swore to himself to get his revenge.
"Draco, what the hell?" was the first thing Blaise asked as he sat next to him after being given detention by Snape, who couldn't ignore twenty minutes of tardiness, no matter how much he liked the boy.
"Shut it, Blaise," he growled as he glared at Granger, who was deftly stirring her potion and laughing at something Potter had said. She looked perfect, as always, and her hair was in a neat long braid.
Blaise smirked at Draco, "Lucky bastard," he laughed. "You might want to heal those hickeys, though," he said, pointing at a few red and purple spots below his best friend's jaw.
"Shut it, Blaise," he repeated, but pointed at the love bites with his wand and muttered a few healing spells.
"You should be happy, Draco, I was going to try my luck if you didn't manage to do something by this week," the boy said lightly as he ground the dehydrated newt eyes. "Now all you have to do is do something to prove it."
"Prove it?" The blond asked apprehensively.
"Well of course. You need to convince the Slytherins, and you know they won't take your word for it," Zabini laughed as if the idea was utterly ridiculous. "Especially about you shagging Granger, who, as far as they know, is the most virginal girl in Hogwarts."
"She wasn't half as virginal yesterday," Draco grumbled but couldn't hold back a smirk.
Blaise looked at him and grinned in a very I-know-something-you-don't way.
"I know! She shags like a minx, doesn't she?"
The blond, who had been contently chopping the belladonna, cut his hand with the knife but didn't even notice, concentrated as he was in gawking at his best friend.
Blaise waved his tanned hand in dismissal. "Last year. Just lasted a few weeks; she said she was too busy with school."
All Draco could do was glare and growl at his best friend angrily.
Must punch Blaise Zabini, his brain said.
By the time the bell rang and class was dismissed, Draco Malfoy had already made up his mind. He was going to prove he had won the bet and punish Granger at the same time. And it was going to hurt.
That was a Malfoy's promise.
As the students dispersed, he ran after Granger, who was happily chatting away with Potter and Weasley. He growled when she casually touched Potty's arm, but held back his jealousy and plastered a smirk on his face.
"Hey, Granger!" he shouted loudly, causing not only the girl to turn to him, but also all of the Gryffindors and Slytherins in the vicinity.
An audience. Perfect.
"Yes?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as if they hadn't just shagged their brains out yesterday.
"I just wanted to ask you, Hermione," he drawled, and as he approached her, he could hear various gasps. "Did you enjoy yourself last night?"
The Boy-Who-Lived and his red-haired weasel sidekick seemed too stunned to punch him.
Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom was not, and had to be restrained by a glowering Seamus Finnigan.
He could see Blaise sighing and shaking his head in despair next to a stunned Pansy and a gaping Nott.
"Sure," Granger answered and shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
This caused more gasps, but also some frowns from those students who wondered if maybe 'last night' didn't mean exactly what Draco wanted them to believe it meant.
After all, if the Golden Girl Hermione Granger had had sex with the Slytherin Bad Boy Draco Malfoy, she would have reacted to his taunts in some way, right?
Damned chit. She was too smart.
He glared at her.
He was smart too; he would show her.
"Fantastic," he said, examining his cuticles. Then he raised his head and threw her his Malfoy I'm-superior-than-you™ smirk.
"You know, I was just wondering how does it feel to be my whore?"
This broke Potter and Weasley from their reverie, and it took three Gryffindors to hold them back. They seemed reluctant to do so, though.
To everyone's surprise, however, Hermione Granger did not slap Draco Malfoy and burst in tears.
She did not slap Draco Malfoy and fume angrily.
She did not slap Draco Malfoy at all.
The chit didn't even blush!
She just laughed musically and patted his cheek as if he were a very silly child. Her caramel-brown eyes twinkled merrily in a very scary, Dumbledorian way.
"As far as I know, Draco, you are my whore," she said simply, and Draco took a moment to figure out she had insulted him- concentrated as he was on her pink, luscious lips.
Weasley fainted, though, and that snapped him from his daydreaming.
Goyle followed his example, crashing a passing Slytherin second year under his weight.
Granger smirked at him and walked away elegantly, levitating Weasley to float behing her.
A wide-eyed Potter followed her unsurely, sneaking glances at the blond Slytherin every few steps.
Draco Malfoy stood unmoving, equally wide-eyed, and gawking very unbecomingly.
Loud laughter ensued from Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. To Draco's astonishment, even Snape seemed to be holding back a smirk.
Blaise approached him and gave him a friendly slap on the back. He was struggling not to grin and his dark eyes held tears of mirth.
"Well, mate, look at the bright side; you won the bet," he said flashing him a large smile.
Draco glared. That punch was definitely overdue.
A/N: Like it? Poor Draco, the boy's really not used to wanting and not getting, is he? By the way, I've decided to write a sequel for this one-shot, please tell me if you have any opinions and/or ideas.
Please review; you'll make me really happy!
9/20/2015 - Years later, I'm a little embarrassed by this one-shot, but if you enjoyed it, be sure to check out Whipped, the drabble series I am currently working on, which picks up this universe a few years after graduation!
Summary: Malfoys aren't addicts—it's just that Draco's evil barista has been slipping him a Compulsion Potion with his daily caffeine kick. While in the queue, he runs into someone from his past. Featuring Pansy's half-sister, Celestina Warbeck's son, and one deliciously grown-up Hermione Granger. Fluff ensues. Sequel to "Whore," sort of.