.Gee. Kirra wrote P0RN! Did she pull it off? I don't know, you be the judge.
This was a birthday request for my friend Nell's BIG 1-8 and whilst I'm still new to this whole "writing romance" thing, I think I gave it a pretty good shot. I don't really supposrt this pairing, however Nell is a BIG fan and I do kinda owe her for all the Harry Potter fanart requests I make when we're sitting there bored in maths: "Oh! Now draw TONKS! No, her hair's short... yes that's right. Oh! and draw UMBRIDGE! OH! And Veela Draco! What do you mean HOW? Oh, and then do Grindelwald! No, I don't care if you don't know who he is, DRAW HIM!" etc etc.
WARNING: This fic contains explicit sex scenes and any plot included is really just to fuel the afformentioned sex.
Disclaimer: Everything is owned by JK Rowling
Hermione struggled against her captor slightly before mentally scolding herself. Aggressive force would only make matter worse, she firmly reminded herself.
The thorns clung brutally to her uniform, the sleeve of her left arm held firmly at her side by clutching thorns. Hermione tried to shift forward and moaned in despair; the large talons bit savagely into the wool of her school jumper, immobilizing her entire upper body and her arms were held out across the rosebush. Her legs were free to move and weren't trapped by the vicious thorns, Hermione realized, as she experimentally stretched her legs outwards, away from the rosebush. It was best to pinpoint her strengths and weaknesses in the situation, after all. Despite being held back by the thorns anyway, the effort wasn't completely pointless; Hermione had discovered her skirt was ensnared by the vicious teeth of the rosebush, gasping when she felt the thorns brush lightly against the sensitive skin at the back of her thighs.
She wished Harry and Ron were here… no, that was a force of habit. She wished Harry were here to help and wished Ron would never find out about this situation and never let her live it down. It was all his fault she had fallen and landed in Professor Sprout' magical breed of roses. If Ron wasn't acting like such an insufferable arse lately Hermione wouldn't need to volunteer to work with the plants in Greenhouse No. 2 for extra credit, which was really just an excuse to avoid Ron.
Sighing, Hermione glanced across the greenhouse floor, hoping to see where her wand had fallen to. Perhaps, she reasoned, it would be in reach of her feet. Her heart dropped when she did not spy the familiar polished wooden handle of her wand.
Well, this situation, as embarrassing as it was, could be handled effectively; Hermione felt her wandless magic was in need of practice.
Approximately twenty minutes and a dozen failed attempts to summon her wand without magic, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the faint creak of the greenhouse door opening- Professor Sprout would able to free her without causing extensive damage to either the rosebush or Hermione. She heard light footsteps shifting the dirt and soil cascading the floor as the new arrival made their way through the maze of various plants and gardening equipment.
"Hello?" Hermione called when she was sure Professor Sprout was in reach of hearing her. "Could somebody help me?" The footsteps grew louder and uneven as the person hurried towards the sound of her voice.
What a relief. As embarrassed as the situation was, Hermione was grateful help had arrived sooner than later.
"Granger, what are you doing?" a familiar sneer and a flash of white blonde hair sent Hermione's heart plummeting. Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind a tall, swaying plant pot plant resembling a pink fern tree- fulvius flaccus, Hermione's brain prompted. Malfoy was dressed in his usual school robes, but he wore thick dragon-hide boots in which his trousers were tucked into and leather gloves adorned his hands. A herbology assignment?
Hermione raised her chin in defiance, though it was difficult as her hair was tangled amongst the thorns and tugged at her scalp painfully. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked slightly taken aback. "Perhaps my hearing is impaired, Granger, because I distinctly remember it was you shrieking for help, not me."
Hermione glared at Malfoy, with his signature jeering smirk and grey eyes cruel and taunting. Hermione felt her blood boil. "I'm stuck."
"Gosh, really Granger? And here was me thinking you were just sprawled out over a goddamn rosebush for the luxury," Malfoy drawled. "Or perhaps you are. Mudbloods have such odd customs after all-"
"Shut up Malfoy!" Hermione snarled.
"Tut, tut Granger," Malfoy tsked, shaking his head. "It's not polite to raise your voice at people- particularly those you need help from."
"I don't need your help Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "I'll wait for Professor Sprout."
Malfoy laughed harshly, the sound echoes from his throat, deep and rumbling. He turned his back to her, crouching to inspect a row of small plant pods nestled in their ceramic pots. "I'm afraid you'll be waiting there all night then," Malfoy drawled as he picked up the largest pod and carried it across the open space to a wooden work bench nearby the rosebush that held Hermione captive.
"You see, I've just been to see Sprout. As a highly competent student and a remarkable asset to the class," Malfoy scanned the workbench, back still to Hermione. "I was granted permission to work on my Herbology assignment without supervision." Hermione looked over Malfoy's shoulder as he picked up a large trowel and inspected it briefly before it disappeared from Hermione's view.
"There seems to be something wrong with the Whomping Willow," Malfoy continued. "Some idiot has angered it, no doubt- branched flailing everywhere, bludgeoning everyone within an inch of its reach. Honestly, this school really has gone to the dogs."
"The Whomping Willow happens to be a proud example of Hogwarts heritage," said Hermione, feeling it was her duty to show her loyalty to the school.
At this Malfoy spun round to face her, an indignant expression on his pale, pointed face. "Granger, you can't be serious. We're supposed to be proud of a mad tree that attacks its students? Honestly, it's one thing to be loyal; it's another thing completely to just accept blind faith."
"As if you're one to scold me about blind faith, Malfoy," Hermione spat viciously.
Pink tinged his pale cheeks as Malfoy snarled and reached for his wand.
"Wait! Please don't-" Hermione shrieked.
"Oh keep your kickers on, Granger, I'm going to blast this bloody bush. The sooner you're out of my sight, the better."
"No, Malfoy! You can't just hex it!" Hermione cried. "This breed of rose is astonishingly rare, Professor Sprout will kill me if-"
"As much as I care about your well-being Granger, I have twelve pods to work through this afternoon and I don't particularly fancy have the know-it-all Mudblood bitch commentating over my shoulder while I work."
"Fine!" Hermione resigned. "Hex the bush into oblivion for all I care! But you can kiss whatever moderately decent marks you've been getting in Herbology goodbye when Professor Sprout sees that you've done to her rare and expensive roses."
Malfoy hesitated, and then carefully lowered his wand, a fixed glare on his face as he regarded the predicament Hermione was in. Hermione felt herself heat up under the intensity of the gaze, but matched his glare with her own, in order to maintain some dignity.
"If it's just your jumper that's stuck, can't you simply slip your arms out of the sleeves and slide out of it?" Malfoy asked, his head cocked slightly.
Hermione shook her head. "My hair is caught too, and… and so is my skirt." Her eyes lowered to the floor as she felt her cheeks redden. Oh, this was simply embarrassing.
"Hmm…" Malfoy raised his wand and shouted "Diffindo!"
There was a faint sound of ripping wool as Hermione's school jumper was ripped to shreds, the remaining tatters lying cascaded across the dirty floor. Hermione sighed in relief as she lowered arms, which were beginning to cramp.
"Now that your arms are free you can unpick your skirt," said Malfoy, turning to return to his work.
A sudden squeak had Draco pivoting on the spot again. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, what now?"
Granger looked at his with a frightened expression, face flushed and brown eyes almost comically wide. Her stance had changed, shoulders hunched and arms dangling uselessly at her side.
"My arms are still stuck!" she shrieked. "My sleeves, they're caught too; the thorns must have pierced them through my jumper."
Draco almost laughed; Granger looked like some sort of deranged scarecrow- not that Draco knew what one of those was, of course. Her hair was a wild mess, tangled amongst the leaves and thorns; it reminded Draco of a bird's nest. Curiously, he walked towards Granger to look side on at the damage. He could see a dozen or so large, angry looking thorns clutching Granger's shirt from her sleeves, trailing downwards to her lower back and then finally hugging the hips of her skirt.
"I don't think I can reach the thorns to unpick you, " Draco murmured. "Not without me getting caught , anyway. Can't you just pull yourself away?"
Granger shook her head. "Like I said, this is a very rare breed of rose, Rosa Afferando. It has a unique defense mechanism; its thorns are very sharp and rather poisonous if they pierce the skin. The more you struggle against them the longer and sharper they grow."
"You could have just said "no" Granger, you didn't need to give me a whole Herbology lesson on the bloody thing." Draco strolled around the rosebush to face Granger once more and considered what to do.
"I suppose," he said slowly. "If you unbutton your shirt you could free your arms and unpick the thorns?"
Not surprisingly, Granger's face flushed deeper as her eyes fluttered to the floor. "That… that could work, only… I can't… reach…" she mumbled in a small voice. Granger struggled against her bonds demonstrating her restrictions in the thorns confinement.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. All he had wanted was to finish this bloody Herbology assignment which, truth be told, he had neglected for the past several weeks in favor of Quidditch. Draco looked up at Granger; her ridiculous pose and face pink with embarrassment was something he'd laugh about later in the company of Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. But when his eyes caught her large, brown ones Draco felt a small twinge of pity on behalf of the girl he had tormented his entire time at Hogwarts. This new feeling was worrisome- Draco made a mental note to put more effort into avoiding Hufflepuffs.
Draco sighed heavily. His afternoon was already wasted, he may as well dedicate it to rescuing Gryffindors, Draco thought miserably as he began to unbutton Granger's shirt.
However, he only managed to release the first button before Granger shrieked "Malfoy! What are you doing?" she twisted her torso, trying to release herself from Draco's grasp. Her outraged tone sent Draco's blood boiling and he tightened his grip his grip on the white collar of her shirt, refusing to back down.
"I'm helping you, Granger!" Draco snarled. "But if you'd rather stay here all night then be my guest!" somewhat reluctantly, Granger ceased struggling against his grip.
"Now," said Draco through gritted teeth. "Unless you can think of another way to do this, stay still and stop writhing like a madwoman."
Granger seemed lost for words. "I… uh… close your eyes!" she pleaded. "Please."
Huffing slightly, Draco exaggerated the request, looking away and squeezing his eyes shut as though the sight of Granger half undressed was unbearable. Of course, it was all out of pure spite; he had to compensate for rescuing a Mudblood Gryffindor somehow.
However, having his eyes closed enhanced Draco's other senses; the musty smell of damp soil, the sweet scent of the roses holding Granger captive lingering in the air, the warmth of the sunlight on his back, Granger's breath tickling the skin on his neck… Why on earth was Granger panting? Draco was the one doing all the work.
The thin cotton of her shirt was soft as his fingertips trailed slowly down in search of the next button. Draco found himself inexplicably wondering if the skin beneath it was just as soft. The thought took Draco by surprise, causing him to fumble clumsily at the button. When did his hands become so sweaty? It must have been the humidity of the greenhouse, Draco assured himself firmly.
When Draco's finger's freed the button, he slid them further downwards, smirking slightly as they grazed over a slope of warm, soft flesh still held in the confines of the thin cotton fabric. This time, Draco purposely lingered in his task, resting his hands in the valley of Granger's breasts. Draco marveled at the warmth beneath his hands. The rise and fall of Granger's chest synchronized with her breathing, hot and warm on his neck and increasing rapidly.
It was not until Draco reached the final button that he was critically aware that once this button was released, Granger would be completely exposed. Fingers trembling slightly, he fumbled and finally freed the last button. Draco opened Granger's shirt, his eyes still closed, but did not relent his hold on the hem as he considered his ultimatum. This was, after all, a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Here was Granger before him. Scantily clad, vulnerable.
Forgoing honor and morale and giving in to temptation, like the Slytherin that he was, Draco opened his eyes and stared down at the girl before him.
Granger's face was pink and her eyes were wide in shock- no surprises there. What drew Draco's attention was the pair of firm breasts nestled inside a modest white bra- trust Granger to wear sensible knickers. They rose and fell in an almost hypnotic rhythm, Draco felt as though he were in a trance. He had seen his fair share of tits, Slytherin girls weren't exactly famed for their modesty. But Merlin, Granger's were so perfect, so round and firm and full. They looked so soft Draco simply wanted to bury his face between them, cover them in heated kisses, trail his tongue across the sweet flesh and send Granger writhing beneath him. Merlin, the thought made Draco's mouth water as blood rushed to his groin.
"What… what are you going?" asked Granger, her voice a breathy whisper.
Draco's eyes flickered to meet Granger's. Her expression was unreadable- perhaps she was frightened, or confused, or possibly even curious. Draco searched for any signs of unwillingness. Granger, despite being a pathetic Mudblood, was a strong, independent witch, was she not? Surely if she opposed Draco getting this far, she would have done something by now, despite the situation.
Hesitating, but only slightly, Draco placed his hand on her hip, sliding it upwards over the soft flesh of her waist and to a supple breast in his hand.
Hermione gasped as she felt Malfoy's hand squeeze gently. He seemed to take the sound as a sign of encouragement; his fingers kneaded the flesh, sending goose bumps across her skin. Malfoy's lips were parted, his head bowed slightly, gazing fixedly at her chest as though in deep concentration. A thumb snuck under her bra and stroked the sensitive skin of her nipple, tweaking it as it peaked to hardness. Hermione gasped breathlessly and she arched into the touch, her remaining clothes straining against the thorns that held her in place.
Malfoy's eyes shot up to meet hers. The intensity of his gaze sent Hermione crumbling. The power, the lust, the pure want was reflected so clearly in his eyes. Those same grey eyes that had never conveyed anything besides hate and contempt for her. This new side of Malfoy, this human side of him, filled Hermione with anxiety and unease. But underneath that fear lay a certain element of pride. She had been the one to trigger this untamed performance from the infamously cold-hearted Draco Malfoy. She was the one who made his eyes darken with unhidden want. And she was the one who was causing the arousal to stir in Malfoy's groin, his hardness pressed against her stomach.
Hermione was in awe.
Careful not to break eye contact, she repeated again in a much calmer, controlled voice, "What are you doing?"
Malfoy didn't reply. Instead he bowed his head and licked a stripe across her breast, tongue following the edging of her bra. Hermione let out a harsh breath, unprepared for the action. The moist skin was cooled by the damp air that lingered in the greenhouse. It made Hermione suddenly yearn for warmth and closeness. She tried to thread her fingers through Malfoy's hair and hold him against her, but the thorns restrained her, keeping Malfoy out of reach whilst he tortured her with his oh, so talented tongue.
"I think…" Hermione breathed. "I think my… my bra…. I think it might be caught too."
Malfoy immediately ceased his ministrations and Hermione bit back a whimper. He lifted his head and studied her shortly; Hermione thought she saw a flicker of shock on his pale face.
"I told you Granger," Malfoy attempted to drawl, but his voice shook slightly, destroying the humiliating tone. "I can't reach around and unhook you without getting myself caught." He sighed and withdrew his hand. "You really are quite a nuisance today, aren't you? Great tits though." He added before casting Diffindo once more.
The straps of her bra snapped and the clasp was ripped apart and the destroyed bra joined the tatters of Hermione's school jumper on the dirty floor. Malfoy stood before her, mouth parted, eyes narrow and hungry. Hermione wondered how debauched she must look; half naked, trapped in the bondage of her school shirt and held in place by thorns with ridiculously powerful clutching properties. It suddenly occurred to her how vulnerable she was.
Hermione looked away from Malfoy in shame; perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.
Malfoy cupped Hermione's chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. Hermione barely blinked in surprise before Malfoy lunged forward and placed a searing kiss on her lips. Her squeak of surprise was muffled by Malfoy's ravenous moth. He made busy work of the kiss; lips, teeth, tongue and heat, glorious heat consuming her from the inside out. Hermione's knees began to shake as she moaned into the kiss, relenting her control and giving in.
Granger's wanton moans sent Draco shivering. Both hands grasped those glorious, glorious breasts as Granger's tongue writhed against his own. Merlin, who would have guessed the Hogwarts bookworm was such a feisty wench when it came to kissing? How long had she been practicing on Weasley?
Draco's eyes narrowed as he growled into the kiss and clasped a possessive hand on Granger's waist. He tried to pull her closer to him but the grip of the thorns was strong and Granger was stuck in place. But Merlin, Draco wanted, no, he needed to have more.
Granger has sensed the problem too. "If we want this to continue, we're going to have to slow down," her hands stroked his forearms, the only part of him she could reach, to sooth Draco's frustration. "Now let's get me out of this damn rosebush."
Draco had never agreed with Granger more.
Succumbed by lust and, though Draco would never admit it, a slight hint of jealousy towards Weasley, Draco felt an overwhelming need to impress Granger. He grasped the sleeve of Granger's shirt in both hands, intending to rip it open with ease- whilst at the same time displaying his obvious masculinity and strength- thus setting Granger free and ready to be ravished.
On the first attempt, Draco failed. And then on the second, and then again the third.
By Draco's fifth attempt to rip open Granger's short, she huffed impatiently, "Just use your wand, Malfoy!"
Scowling Draco withdrew his wand once more. Mentally, he blamed the lack of strength on the discourse of blood flow, which at the moment was shooting straight to his aching cock, hard and in need of serious attention. Draco waved his wand crying out "Diffindo!" for the final time. Shreds and bits of cloth were sent flying in tatters. Granger, released from her bonds, fell into Draco's no-so-awaiting arms, stumbling and sending them both crashing to the floor.
Draco's head hit the floor roughly, pain exploding in the back of his head. His vision blurred slightly and finally came into focus on a very worried, very naked Granger looking down at him. She was straddling his thighs, but seemed concerned about putting her full weight on him.
"Are you okay?" she asked in concern. Her gentle tone and all-round nice and caring Gryffindor-ness sent Draco's blood boiling with humiliation. Merely moments ago Granger was the damsel in distress, putty in his hands and suddenly Draco became the fragile and delicate one? Well, that would not do at all.
Eyes narrowing, Draco placed his hands on Granger's hips, fingers digging into the flesh. "I'm gonna fuck you into the ground, Granger." He growled.
Granger's smirk rivaled his own as she made hasty work unbuckling his pants, but slowly pulled down the zipper, fingers lightly grazing Draco's cock through his trousers. Draco bucked his hips at the touch. He hissed as Granger freed his cock, his boxers grazing the head. Her fingers wrapped around the base and leisurely stroked up and down his length before grazing the slit and smearing pre-come across the pad of her thumb. She brought it to her lips and suckled. Draco's neglected cock twitched at the sight. Granger grinned wickedly.
"What was that about fucking me, Malfoy?" Granger purred. Draco licked his lips and tightened his grip on Granger's hips, attempting to shift her closer.
"Uh, uh," she scolded coyly. Granger removed his hands from her waist and pinned his wrists beside his head. As she leant down, Draco inhaled Granger's sweet scent of skin, sweat and the aroma lingering from the roses. He lifted his head for a kiss and claimed Granger's lips with his own, lips and tongue moving in ecstatic rhythm until Granger tore her lips from his and cried "Petrificus totalus!"
Instantly Draco's body became paralyzed, frozen with his lips parted and his immobile form forced to stare up at Granger. Staring, but could not touch.
Above him, Granger twirled his wand between her fingers, evidently pleased with herself. The bitch must have retrieved it whilst he was distracted by the kiss. Draco was fairly impressed and would have mentioned how Slytherin it was of her, if he could move his mouth.
Draco's cock had not been impaired by the spell and remained standing to attention, red and angry from the neglect. Oh Merlin, how it ached to be encased in those luscious pink lips of Granger's, how he wanted nothing more than to flip them over and thrust himself into Granger's warm wetness, pounding her with no mercy. His cock throbbed at the thought of her tightness, coming hard and fast inside her… But Granger's spell and rendered him completely helpless, he couldn't even thrust his hips upwards impatiently, much less grasp his cock and pump furiously at the sight of the naked and debauched Granger before him.
Granger shifted herself forward, knees now straddling either side of his hips. Slowly and gently, Granger lowered her hips, impaling herself of Draco's cock. Draco's aching cock was incased in that, oh fuck yes, that wonderful, glorious fucking heat. Granger sunk all the way down until their hips met, taking all of Draco in. She sprawled her hands across his chest for leverage and bit her lip in concentration before rising until Draco's cock was nearly pulled out before slamming back down again. Granger picked up the pace of her rhythm, easing her way and up and down over and over again, bouncing on Draco's cock. The tightness, the slickness, Granger's mewling from somewhere above him… it was all far too overwhelming. Draco wanted to grasp her hips again and set the pace; Granger needed to slow down, she needed to- Merlin! Where did Granger learn to do that? If Draco could move his eyes, they would surely roll back in pure ecstasy.
One thing was for sure, if Granger did not stop doing that amazing thing with her hips Draco knew he would not last long. But he was immobilized on the spot, there was nothing he could do but be left to the mercy of Granger's pleasure.
Hermione moaned the counter curse quietly before slamming her hips down again. Malfoy, freed from his frozen state, howled in pleasure, arching his back and gripping Hermione's hips, grinding them against his cock. Hermione's hips bucked, seeking more of that delicious friction from the throbbing member that had penetrated her. She allowed Malfoy to guide her pace, rocking her against his cock, sending them both groaning at the pleasure.
Filth began to spew from Malfoy's mouth, "Fuck Granger… fuck, you love that, don't you? Riding my cock like a fucking Firebolt… fuck…" Each filthy comment sent a jolt of pleasure waving over Hermione, making her hips buck faster, rougher. The desire to soothe the aching need between her legs consumed her, filling her with a passion and greed she had denied herself all these years.
Malfoy's panting became erratic and uneven. Hermione knew he would not last much longer, though she was surprised he had held on for so long; in the few previous times she had done this with Ron he had barely managed to last a few minutes before coming like a Chinese firecracker and leaving Hermione unfulfilled and frustrated. But this experience with Malfoy had provided her with the taste for sex she had been longing to sample; she couldn't let it end so soon.
Hermione lifted her hips and Malfoy's long and hard cock, slick with her wetness, slid out with ease and left her feelings empty and incomplete. Malfoy's handsome face twisted in frustration as he chocked out a cry of despair at the loss. "Granger!"
Slightly distracted by Malfoy's throbbing length jutting against her thigh as he bucked his hips in a hopeless attempt to create friction, she whispered breathlessly "Want you to fuck me,"
Malfoy didn't hesitate in the slightest. Taking a tight hold of Hermione, he rolled them over until her back was pressed against the hard floor with Malfoy lying between her sprawled legs. Gripping one hand on her thigh and another on her hip, Malfoy wasted no time as he quickly positioned himself against her and slammed his cock home. This time Malfoy dominated the situation, thrusting his cock into her with an overwhelming power, hitting every blissful spot with talent and precision. The hand on her thigh snuck upwards and a thumb rubbed her clit mercilessly, melting Hermione in a pool of ecstasy. She gripped at his shoulders and sunk her teeth into his neck, biting back the deafening screams of pleasure she felt budding in her throat.
"I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" Malfoy babbled in her ear.
She nipped at an earlobe before purring, "Come for me, Draco." Malfoy groaned and slammed his cock inside her one more time before coming hard and fast inside her. Hermione bit Malfoy's neck harder as she came, her orgasm rippling through her body. Her hands gripped the clothes on Malfoy's back tightly, her toes curled and Hermione unknowingly pressed her thighs harder against Malfoy, wanting to take him all in. Malfoy rode out his orgasm and while he did not cease his thrusts, they became less powerful and fell out of rhythm. A word sounding suspiciously like "Granger" escaped his lips before he collapsed in a boneless heap on top of her.
They lay there together, sprawled on the floor, holding each other like lovers. Which, Hermione supposed, they were. Warm breath washed over their faces as they fought to regain their breath. Now that they were no longer driven by lust and desire, an awkward silence had filled the air. Just what did you say when two people who supposedly hated each other had fucked like rabbits on the floor of Greenhouse No. 2?
"We should leave soon," Hermione muttered when it became too much to bare. "People will be wondering where we are."
"Yes," Malfoy agreed, however he made no move to get off her. "Do you want me to help mend your clothes?"
"No thank you," Hermione declined politely, as that seemed the best way to go about things. "I'll be fine to do it on my own."
The silence carried on until Malfoy cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you'd want to do this again, would you?"
Hermione looked up at him. She had avoided looking at him for fear of seeing a jeering sneer across his face, laughing at how easily she had given herself to him and making her feel shamed and humiliated.
However Hermione saw nothing more than honesty and anticipation- an expression she had never seen etched upon Malfoy's face before. The sneer that marred his handsome features was nowhere to be seen, much to Hermione's gratitude. She smiled up at him and drew him down for a heated kiss, which seemed appropriate.
Needless to say, they did not leave Greenhouse No. 2 until much, much later.
Don't leave me a review, I don't want one. (That's reverse-psychology, that is)