Temperamental Differences

Summary: Hermione felt his hand roughly grab her hair, and a whimper of pain slipped through her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a blow to her face when instead she felt his lips on hers, his tongue deftly slipping in between her mouth. HGDW, rated M, one-shot.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's beard do you think you're doing!?" Hermione shrieked, practically stomping her foot in anger. She had just arrived at the Heads' common room to find Draco chucking her spell books at the wall.

"This –" he grunted, throwing another book at the wall, "is for making me wait for the showers this morning!"

Hermione made another annoyed sound at him, "You vain bastard!"

Draco rounded on her. "You are getting on my last nerve, Granger! Why such an insignificant little thing like you should claim my attention, I do not know!"

"Do you expect me to be flattered that you care enough to throw my books at the wall?" Hermione sneered back. "Perhaps you'd like for me to get on my knees and lick your shoes clean?"

"The soles of my shoe would probably be burnt through if put in contact with that acidic, Mudblood tongue of yours!" Draco snapped at her.

"In that case…" Hermione went on her tiptoes and spit in Draco's face. "Hmm, not burning yet?"

Instantly, Hermione felt a cold dread creep in her stomach as Draco's face turned red in anger. She might as well have marked herself for slaughter. Before she could make a run for it, Draco grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

"You're making me really angry, Granger," he said in a low voice. Hermione felt his hand roughly grab her hair, and a whimper of pain slipped through her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a blow to her face when instead she felt his lips on hers, his tongue deftly slipping in between her mouth.

"What the f–" she barely managed to gasp before he captured her lips again. It was like a fire had erupted, pressed between their skin, burning away everything, including their past, their priorities, right and wrong. Hermione felt like everything that anchored her onto this planet had been erased, and only Draco, with his soft, soft lips, tethered her here.

Okay, she thought to herself, no need to be melodramatic here.

"One day, Granger," Draco growled into her ear, "I am going to kill you."

Surprisingly, this statement didn't bring fear. More like the opposite. Hermione felt the heat pooling in her stomach. That was definitely an… odd response.

Involuntarily, her hands traveled down his chest, his stomach, and up under his shirt. His hot skin and the feeling of his rippling muscles underneath her fingers almost made her gasp. She couldn't control her body anymore. His hand lifted her chin up, and he leaned down to suck at her neck. Hermione had to fight to keep back her moan. What was he doing to her?

"I'm giving us what we both want." Draco whispered huskily. Oops, did she say that out loud?

"How do you know —" Hermione began defiantly.

"Oh, shut up for once, Granger. You know that I know that—" he was cut off, as his mouth was suddenly busy. When she pulled away, he smirked. "You know I'm always right."

"Oh, shut up for once, Malfoy," Hermione mimicked him teasingly. He pushed her onto the sofa, and climbed on top of her, ripping open her white school shirt so that some of the buttons popped off. Hermione didn't even notice. She was already working at Draco's belt buckle, unzipping his pants as he pulled off his polo. With a groan, he buried his face between her breasts, inhaling her scent. Hermione's chest heaved; she grabbed his face with both hands and brought it up to look him in the eye as she kissed him again.

Of their own accord, her hips began gyrating against his as he slowly rocked back and forth on top of her. Draco kicked off his shoes and managed to slide his pants off, the arousal of his manhood already making its presence known to Hermione. Hitching up her skirt, he shoved her knickers aside and slid his tongue inside of her. One hand expertly reached up to unclasp her brassiere and knead her breast.

"Mal – Dra –" Hermione gasped, unable to form a coherent word. Her whole body was shaking with pleasure as she felt his adept tongue sliding in and out of her, his other hand rubbing at her clit. She felt herself on the edge of her peak, when suddenly he stopped.

Hermione was breathing heavily, and her hips were still rocking on their own as if they mourned the loss.

"Granger, look at me," Draco said. His breathing was heavy as well, and Hermione met his gaze. Then suddenly, finally, he thrust inside of her. It was pleasure and pain twisted into one as she adjusted to his size. Soon, the pleasure overrode everything else, and she found her body aching for Draco to move. Above her, she heard his quiet moan. This caused tingles to course throughout her as she pushed her hips up.

"Move," she demanded.

"You're a little bitch, aren't you?" he said, but he complied. She knew his insult was weightless, and, she could add happily, it made her want him more.

He didn't start slow. He pumped in and out of her without stopping to see if she was okay, and she was more than okay; she loved it. He rode her hard, and Hermione could almost hear the friction of their bodies pressed together. Harder and faster, faster and harder, there was no end and no beginning, no moments of rest.

She felt her muscles clench, and then felt as if the contents of every orgasm for the next ten years had been emptied out right now. She drenched his cock, and he gave a few more, hard, rough thrusts before he climaxed, filling her. Hermione felt the sofa underneath them become soaked. After a few minutes, he pulled out of her, carefully shifting her aside so there was room for both of them on the couch.

"Are your— are your socks still on?" Hermione laughed breathlessly. She felt the vibrations of Draco's chest underneath her as he chuckled, too. Slowly, he leaned over her and kissed her one more time, their tongues meeting before he pulled away and got up.

"You are the most infuriating witch I have ever met," he said, smirking at her. Hermione found herself smirking back.

And so their lives went on. Hermione and Draco never missed a beat, exchanging insults with each other. Their glares were never less violent, their taunts never faltering. Her voice did not shake; her eyes did not break contact with his, and vice versa. No one noticed anything amiss between the two sworn enemies, and so the pattern kept like that.

Hermione was almost at curfew, and she barely made it past the portrait hole with a second to spare. The scene in which greeted her eyes was ghastly and amusing all at once. It was Draco, throwing her books at the wall in anger.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's beard do you think you're doing!?"

"When are you going to learn that I shower first in the morning?" He smirked at her, both tauntingly and knowingly at the same time.

"You vain bastard."