"Bloody hell, you've got to be kidding me," groaned Ron Weasley, eyes upon the group of Slytherins gathered around Draco Malfoy. They were hanging on his every word-- he was telling them all how Harry Potter had tried to kill him in the Shrieking Shack recently, but Professor Snape had come to the rescue.

"See that scrape on his arm?" Draco was saying, pointing across the room to where Harry and his friends were sitting. "That's from where he fell on the ground at my feet, begging Snape and me for mercy."

The Slytherins laughed hysterically at the notion of the great Harry Potter mewling at their hero's feet. They were loving it.

Harry quickly covered his arm and turned back to his friends.

"Quidditch accident, wasn't it?" Hermione looked at him intently.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Got too close to the ground in practice."

She shook her head, her lips pursed. "One day he'll get what's coming to him."

"Hopefully," said Ron, gathering his books. "I'm off to class."

"Me too," Harry said, joining Ron. "See you later, Hermione."

"See you," she returned, watching them go. She tried concentrating on her essay, but it was no use. Draco was still telling stories to a few of the Slytherins as they left for their next class, and she was fuming. How dare he?

Hardly realizing what she was doing, Hermione slammed her book shut and marched over to the Slytherin first-years. She chose Gwendolyn Miller, a slight blonde girl who was on the borderline of becoming a Hufflepuff during the Sorting Ceremony.

Gwendolyn looked up. "Yes?"

Hermione glowered at her. "Give me the Slytherin password," she demanded.

"No!" She was taken aback, surprised that anyone should ask such a thing, especially Hermione, the goody-two shoes of Hogwarts.

"Tell me or I'll turn Pearl into a disgusting little rat," she threatened, pointing her wand at Gwendolyn's beloved cat.

Gwendolyn gathered Pearl in her arms. "You wouldn't!"

"I would. Now tell me."

She sneered. "Toad candles."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "What kind of password is that?" She fiercely regarded the little girl. "You'd best not be lying."

She held Pearl protectively. "I'm not."

Satisfied, Hermione nodded and stalked off, grabbing her books and heading off to her last class of the day. She sat through the lecture, scribbling notes in a furious scrawl, imagining what she was going to say to Draco when she caught him in the Slytherin house later that night. She was still furious about what he said about Harry, how he refused to leave Ron alone about his hand-me-downs, how he called her-- of all things!-- "Mudblood." By the end of the period, she had worked herself up so much that she barely acknowledged Parvati as she passed her in the hallway, and ignored Fred and George completely as they teased her about her hair when she entered the Gryffindor commonroom. She dropped off her books and marched straight down to the Slytherin wing.

"Toad candles," she spat, and the door swung wide open.

Hermione stepped into the commonroom and was immediately greeted with the sight of Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco standing in the center.

"I've been expecting you," Draco said coolly, staring her in the face.

"I suppose Gwendolyn told you."

"She did."

"Well," Hermione began tersely, her blood boiling, "I just came here to tell you that you are--"

"Shh," Draco hushed her, and cast a silencing spell upon her with a flick of his wrist. She struggled to speak, but no sound would come out. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled to themselves. He shot them a look, and they quieted. Turning his attention back to Hermione, he approached her. "I know what you think about me," he began. "I've heard what you say about me. I think it's time you were taught a lesson." He reached out and stroked her hair. "You know... for a filthy Mudblood, you're really quite beautiful."

Hermione shuddered and turned to run, but Crabbe and Goyle grabbed her and dragged her, struggling, to Draco's chamber. She tried desperately to scream, but she couldn't make a sound. They shackled her to Draco's bed as she flailed and fought.

"You can leave now," Draco instructed. "Stand guard at the door."

His minions bobbed their fat little heads and scurried obediently out of the room.

Another flick of his wrist, and the walls of his chamber were made soundproof; one more flick, and Hermione could speak again.

"How dare you!" She was furious. "Once the Headmistress finds out..."

Draco began disrobing in front of her. "I don't think you'll tell her." He saw that her eyes were shut. "Look at me."

She ignored his command, not wanting to believe this was really happening.

He pointed his wand at her. "Open your eyes, Hermione."

Disgustedly, she did so, and gasped in awe at the sight. God, he's got a beautiful body, she thought, then mentally slapped herself. Don't think such things. He's a dirty Slytherin.

He advanced on her, taking care of her clothes with one last flick of his wand. She was suddenly completely naked.

Now it was Draco's turn to stand in awe. Those breasts, he marvelled. So perfect. He tried to shake it off. You're teaching her not to soil your name. This isn't recreation. But he couldn't help himself. He ran his hand slowly down her body-- over her flawlessly formed chest, past her flat stomach, and stopped on her smooth mound.

Keeping his hand there, he watched her face intently. She was looking away from him again, thinking that this kind of invasion was almost worse than if he had just jumped on and fucked her into oblivion.

"Who do you shave your pussy for?" he asked bluntly. "Is it Weaselby?"

Hermione glared at him. "His name is Weasley," she sneered, "and yes, it is."

"I bet he likes it," Draco said, his hands traveling up, harshly grabbing her chest. "And these, I bet he loves these."

She said nothing.

"You can tell him I love them too," he said dryly, sucking her left nipple into her mouth, nibbling slightly. His other hand kneaded her right breast, then slowly journeyed south, slipping between her folds. She gasped as they both realized how wet she was.

"I can smell you," he whispered, and immediately dropped to put his head between her legs. Eagerly, he put his tongue out to taste her-- God, she tasted good!-- and he ravenously began to eat her out, on a mission to get every last drop of her.

Hermione's eyes flew open. She'd wanted Ron to go down on her for the longest time, but he never would. It was better than she imagined, oh yes, so much better. Even better than when she used her own fingers to do it. Her breathing became faster, her heart rate increased-- she tried to stop herself from making any sounds, tried to stop herself from letting him know she was enjoying it, but she couldn't. Finally, she just gave in.

"Ohh, yes," she moaned, her head tossing on the pillow. His face was buried in her pussy and it felt incredible. She felt herself nearing orgasm, and she desperately hoped he would let her climax. "God... don't stop," she pleaded, her eyes rolling back in her head, "oh, yes, oh... oh God... yes!" Her back arched involuntarily and she came, much to Draco's delight, who thirstily lapped up all her juices.

He wiped his face on the bedsheets and looked up at her. "You enjoyed that," he said simply.

She was caught. "Yes," she replied in a small voice.

"Would you like me inside you?" asked Draco.

Not wanting to hear the word escape her lips, she merely nodded.

"Say it," he told her.

"I want you, Draco."

He climbed on top of her, kneeling, and pointed himself at her opening. "Ready?"

Hermione gave him a strange glance-- she thought she noticed a bit of tenderness in his ice-blue eyes. "Yes."

Draco slammed his enormous length into her so hard that tears came to her eyes. He noticed this at once and sank down so that their chests were touching. He smoothed a lock of hair from her face. "Did that hurt?"

Once again, she was confounded, and her eyes showed it. "Draco?"

And all of a sudden, he felt it hit him like a hammer-- he couldn't do this to her! She was gorgeous, God, she was beautiful, and she was so pure. Where's your strength, Malfoy, he chided himself, but it was of no use. He couldn't do it. He collapsed beside her.

"I can't go through with it," he sighed. "I can't."

And Hermione, too, was hit with something. Utter disappointment. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"You're..." He looked her in the eye, but that was even too painful now. "I just can't."

"Why?"

It was like traces of him were disappearing. "I'm sorry for calling you names," he answered softly, avoiding her question. "I'm sorry for teasing Ron. I'm... I'm sorry for making things up about Harry."

"Draco..." A big part of her was longing to reach out to him, but she was still shackled. "Will you let me out of these?"

"Oh. Yeah." He reached for his wand and released her, expecting her to reach for her clothes and run.

Instead, she enveloped him in her arms, gently pushing a section of blond hair from his eyes. "I forgive you."

"You do?"

She nodded. "And you know something?"

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry for coming up here with the intent to curse you," she said. Biting her lip, she tilted his face toward hers. "I think you should punish me."

Draco grinned. "You liked it."

Hermione blushed and nodded.

"Very well," he said, the gleam returning to his eye. With a touch of magic, she was shackled again, and Draco was straddling her.

"Mudblood bitch," he spat, but now she was turned on, not hurt. "You're mine now, mine to do with what I want. Do you understand?"

She nodded, putting on frightened eyes to mask her excitement, and drew in a sharp breath as he forced himself inside of her. "You're extremely wet for a Mudblood bookworm," he snarled, thrusting in and out. "Can you handle all of me?"

Hermione's eyes were watering, but she wanted it. She nodded.

"I suppose it doesn't matter anyway," Draco continued. "You're my slave, bitch." Gripping the bedsheets, he began to pound her ruthlessly. Out of habit, Hermione tried to muffle her screams. "Scream, bitch," Draco commanded. "No one can hear you. Scream."

She let loose with a rippling shriek, her body shocked at the intensity of the pleasure Draco was providing. Her walls pulsed as he slid in and out of her, pleading for release. He didn't let up. "Oh, God, Draco... yes... oh, don't stop..." Her face was twisted into contortions of pleasure, her eyes shut tight. "Draco... oh, yes..." His face was red and his hair was flying as he picked up the pace even more, causing Hermione's eyes to fly open. "Draco!" She was sent into convulsions, a body-racking orgasm. But he wasn't satisfied yet. As Hermione relaxed into a human ragdoll, Draco kept his pace, thrusting into her forcefully. Ron's never lasted this long, she thought briefly, then she reacted again-- another one was on the way. She couldn't move, yet, involuntarily, her legs twitched and her stomach clenched as she soared into a second climax. She screamed and shut her eyes tightly as it took her over, and then she went limp-- but Draco didn't stop. He propelled himself further inside, his face beginning to show the first signs. "Hermione," he whispered, then louder-- "oh God, Hermione!" and suddenly, he came inside of her in a sweet, intense explosion.

Hermione smiled as he collapsed beside her, trying to catch his breath. Not forgetting about her, he lifted his wand-- heavily, as if it weighed a hundred pounds-- and set her free. She giggled and kissed him on impulse.

Draco returned her smile. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"I think I might love you," she admitted blushingly.

Draco smiled. It was the strangest sensation-- all his father's beliefs, all the evil, all the darkness felt as if it had been washed away. In this moment, there was only Hermione. "Is that what this is?"

Hermione laughed again, a bubbling little sound.

"What?"

"To think this all started with an innocent little insult," she said, chuckling.

He grinned and pulled her close.