Harry Potter fic that I recently took down, after making quite a few changes to it. Realized that I needed to make even more, and the pressure to do it wasn't helping. I'll be doing the same thing with it that I did with the last few plots I've posted for adoption with this one, but this is what I call the Beta version of the story - the one I posted up originally when I first put the story up. Um, you can take what I've got written already and add to it - in fact, it's preferable that you do that, though you can change some things - just make sure that one, the beginning matches the ending, and two, no possible thought of Ron and Hermione possibly dating. Story is called Obedience, and is not a romance one. Oh, and no magic, either.


The Thoughts of Hermione Granger-Malfoy – To Begin a Story


Imagine this: you have an almost perfect life. You family is whole, your being treated right, and yet there is a black spot that covers everything. And then, that black spot grows, consuming everything is sight until your left with nothing but little pieces of what was, and broken dreams of what could have been.

All of my problems started when my mother, Narcissa, remarried. No, my problems weren't with the man that she had married; Lucius Malfoy was nice and kind, despite his regal appearance and cold indifference. He loved my mother, and he was nice to me, spoiling and acting as if he was my real father rather than my step-father.

In fact, he was better than my dead beat father, who had left my mother and I when I was six, leaving behind a whole bunch of debts while he went to the Caribbean with his whore of a secretary.

At the time, my mother was trying to find him, planning on slapping him with a huge divorce. Of course, by the time we found him, it was just as he was dying from injuries from a car accident, which was several months after she had found out about his debts and whores. He died not long after our visit, though we later found out that he was dying anyways, the accident had just sped up what the STDs his whore had given him would do.

Most of the debts he left had been paid by the insurance money that had been left for us as he had never actually divorced my mother – I think that it was so my mother would be left with the debts that he had instead of paying for them himself, as I had looked at the agreement my mother had made, and she had made sure that, in case of divorce, all his problems stayed his problems.

The few debts that weren't paid off at that time were a few years later with my mother's marriage to Lucius.

So, no, my problems weren't with him. No, they were with his son, Draco.

Or, I should say, they started after my mother and Lucius died, about four years aflter their wedding, and Draco became my legal guardian.

Before marrying my mother, Lucius had been married once before. I didn't know the reason why he had married her, for it was obvious he didn't love her as much as he loved my mother. However, that's beside the point. The point is, he had fathered a child with his first wife, a boy whom they had named Draco.

Now, upon first meeting him, I never sensed that there was something wrong with him. He was just like his father, always nice and polite, never anything but the perfect gentleman, but…I don't remember what it was exactly, but I never seemed to be comfortable around him after the one week I spent in his company during our parents' honeymoon. There was something about him that just…

I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was a bit older than me – I was ten when his father had married my mother, and he was eighteen, already an adult. All that I knew was I never felt comfortable around him.

Of course, it wasn't until later that I realized why. And, by then, it was too late.


The Wedding


The day that her mother was to remarry arrived grey and dreary, though there were no rain, and the sun could been seen trying to shine through, determined to be seen. Hermione Granger and her mother were looking outside at this scenery as the limo drove them to the chapel.

The ten year old looked over at her mother. She knew that today was supposed to be a happy day, but she just couldn't muster up the right emotion. She was worried that something bad would happen, like the cake would arrive ruined, or they would get into an accident, or just something that would ruin the day for her mother.

Her mother, Narcissa Granger, chose, at that moment, to look at her, a brilliant smile on her face. Hermione couldn't help but return it with one of her own.

"You okay, sweetie?" Narcissa asked, pushing a curl back into place. Hermione nodded her head, unwilling to voice her concerns. She didn't want to seem as if she was trying to ruin her mother's big day.

Hermione thought about how they had arrived at this point.

Her father, Daniel Granger, had left her mother after she had found out that he was cheating on her, sleeping with his secretary. It had broke her mother's heart to find this out, but her mother had been strong, and demanded a divorce…which he had, surprisenly, denied.

Of course, it was only after he had left – the very same day that her mother had not only made her discovery but demanded a divorce – that the reason for denying her came into light. Narcissa and her had been surprised to find out about all the debts her had collectect…and most of them were for things that had concerned his mistrisses, most of them being ones he had even before he ran off, nothing about her or Hermione.

They had barely been able to survive with all of their money being sucked up by Daniel's debts, though Narcissa had been smart enough to keep a separate bank account that she had deposited money into daily, unknown to Daniel. However, it wasn't enough, and Narcissa had been unable to get a loan for the banks. Not only that, but her only family – Hermione's Great Aunt Marien – refused to help out because Narcissa wasn't willing to get rid of her.

So, they had almost been unable to survive. However, they had when the detective that Narcissa had hired to find Daniel so she could slap him with a divorce – one that would not have been pretty, for Narcissa had changed it so that Daniel would know what she had gone through with Hermione – came back to tell them that Daniel was in the hospital with multiple wounds from a car accident, and that it was unlikely he would survive…unless Narcissa was willing to do something about that.

Narcissa and Hermione had gone to the hospital he were at to visit…and so Narcissa could let him know that she wasn't going to do a damn thing to help him get the help that she could easily get for him. She told him that he should have thought about what he did before he slept with the whores that he did, and his STDs – something she found out upon asking the doctor about his condition.

Then, she did what she had been wanting to do since finding out about his infidelities; she turned her back on him, ignoring his soft calls for her to come back, and left. Then, she went down the hall to the secretaries room, and let her know – for she was on a roll, and the secretary was going to live anyways – that she hoped she enjoyed the STDs that she had, and not to even bother thinking she could get any money from Daniel, for he wouldn't live long enough to give it to her.

It was the only time that Hermione had seen her mother being purposely mean, and even then, when she got back to the house, her mother had felt like going back to the hospital and apologizing. It was only the fact that Hermione was there, giving her a look that said it wasn't worth it that she didn't.

Hermione continued to look out the window as her memories continued to flash through her mind.

Her mind immediately went back to the day that her mother had come to pick her up from school, happier than she had ever been. She had met someone at the store…well, she had accidentally ran her cart into him, and hurt him, but he had taken it gracefully; in fact, he had insisted that she allow him to take her out for dinner after introducing himself as Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione couldn't believe how quickly they were becoming close; not even the fact that Narcissa was a single mother of an seven year old was able to stop his attraction. In fact, when they first met, he had been charming to her – not as charming as he was to her mother, but charming as in 'I'll be a great father-figure/friend to you' charming. Hermione immediately knew that this was a man that could be trusted, one who wouldn't hurt her mother in anyway.

Which was why, almost a year and a half later, she had immediately said yes when he asked for her mother's hand in marriage.

Of course, the fact that he had a son had come up in conversation a lot, though Hermione had yet to actually meet him, as he was away in college. Narcissa had only met him once, and Hermione had yet to meet her to be step-brother. But, from what her mother had said, she didn't have much to worry about, as he was almost an exact carbon copy of his father, though more reserved and not quite in love with her.

Hermione would have thought it would be weird if he had been in love with her mother as well.

They finally arrived at the church, and Hermione wasted no time scrambling out of the limo, desperate to make sure that everything was going all right. While they were a bit earlier than needed, Hermione wasn't going to take any chances of something ruining her mother's day.

Shuffling her mother into the room that they were using as a dressing room. Taking the time to get all ready, Hermione and the other bridal party members crowded around Narcissa, getting her ready, though she insisted that they help Hermione get ready herself.

So Liana, the maid of honor, pulled Hermione aside, pulling her dress away from the others. Liana was already wearing her dress. The theme for the female part of the bridal party was Ever After. All of the bridesmaids were wearing a white cemise under a blue overdress that matched the Danielle character's servant dress from the movie.

Narcissa's dress was different, being an exact match of the masquerade dress that Danielle wore. It had a white silk chemise with a silver silk overcoat that matched beautifully. They braided her hair and put it up into an elegant bun, not a single hair out of place. The placed blue, clear, and white crystal pins around her hairline, making it glitter in the light before they placed the white veil and silver and crystal tiara on, covering the bun.

Once she was done, she looked beautiful, her carefully made face glowing. Hermione looked at her won reflection. The dress that she had to wear was different than the others. It was a blue silk dress that matched the theme but was just as elegant as Narcissa's dress. It had an empire waist, flowing silk skirt, and lace along all the hems. The sleeves were also different. There were slashed in the sleeves, which made only an inch thick strip stay high in her shoulders while the rest of the sleeve fell off of her shoulders. Lace decorated the inch thick strap on both sides while it also decorated only the bottom of the rest of the sleeves near her hands.

She had on a little bit of make-up, just a bit of neutral eyeshadow, blush, and pink lip gloss, and her hair was done to the maximum. The usually wild, frizzy curls that she had inherited from her father were also gone; in place of them were banana curls that flowed like a waterfall down to her waist. Half of her hair was also pulled back, the sides also braided with a small blue satin ribbon bow hair barrett holding the braids away from her face. Small blue crystal pins also adorned her hair, decorated withing the small braids as well as sprinkled with the curls.

I think I need a haircut once this is all over went through her mind. It was the only thing she could think of as she looked at the fake blue crystal earings that she was wearing, as well as the matching blue ribbon choker that adorned her throat. She bit her lip. She looked like slightly overrun with blue; even her strappy sandles were blue.

However, she sucked up that feeling when she looked at the other girls. She looked like royalty compared to the others, though everyone paled in comparrison to her mother. She had no right to belittle her dress when the others had made her look like a princess.

She looked over at the time just as her mother did.

"Oh dear, it's almost time. Hermione, would you be a dear and see if Lucius is ready?" Narcissa asked her. Hermione nodded her head, feeling the need to get away from everyone else. The room was a bustle of activity know that the three bridesmaids and the maid-of-honor were working on themselves.

She left the room, shaking her head that the craziness that was going on. Though, she had to admit, she was a bit excited herself. She wondered down the hall, slowing slightly as she passed the chapel, gulping as she heard the people talking inside. She knew that she was going to have to walk into there, and was feeling nervous, though her part in the ceremony was small.

She hurried towards the room that the men were supposed to be in, and knocked on the door, hoping that she did indeed have the right room.

The door began opening as she heard Lucius's voice grow louder without something to block it. She looked up at the man who had opened the door and was about to ask him if they were ready when she froze as cold, grey eyes clashed with her own brown ones.


"Father, must you insist on such a lavish wedding," a cold voice drawled. Draco Malfoy, the eighteen year old son of Lucius, wondered why he felt the need for such a wedding. He knew from pictures that his mother's marriage to Lucius had been nothing like this. In fact, it had been a rather small affair, a hurried one, mostly due to him; an unexpected pregnancy had been the real reason why they had even gotten married.

"Yes, I do insist. You're lucky that Cissy didn't think it should be bigger, otherwise it would be a national event," Lucius said as he threw on the jacket to his tuxedo. Draco looked on with distaste.

He always wondered why he had told his father okay when Lucius told him his plan to marry Narcissa Granger. After all, while he did like her, he didn't like the fact that it seemed as if Lucius was replacing his mother, Alina. And yet, he had told his father that he wouldn't mind her joining the family.

Draco supposed it was the fact that, after the wedding, he was leaving for New York for college, and wouldn't be around her all that much. Of course, he doubted his father would have changed his mind if Draco had said something other than he did. His father had looked like a lovesick fool as he talked about Narcissa.

Draco shook his head as he refocused on Lucius.

"So, when –" he started, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Standing up and walking over to he door, he wondered who it was, and opened it.

The first thing he saw was beautiful goden brown eyes. They looked as if they were filled with knowledge. His eyes began taking in everything else. The beautiful hair, the blue dress. His eyes took in the entire picture. For a moment, he saw her as older, and felt an undeniable surge of lust fill his body; then, he blinked, and the vision was replaced by a little girl with golden eyes.

He mentally shook his head, forcusing on the girl in front of him.

"Yes, can I help you?" he said, trying hard not to sound mean, though he still shounded cold.

"Is Lucius here?" she asked, and, before he could say anything else, his father came over to the door, wondering who it was that had knocked.

"Hermione," Lucius said as Draco stepped back, still reeling from the unexpected lust that had shot through him. He was confused; he had never felt such lust, for any woman. The fact that a mere child was able to inspire it was just sick. He looked over towards the door, this time intent on study the girl who had inspired such lust.

He saw obviously tamed curly brown hair, a lot of blue, and pale skin. Lust crawled through his viens as he looked at her golden eyes and pink lips. Though she was young, she was extremely beautiful; something many could say was the result of being beautified for the wedding, though he could tell differently.

She was beautiful herself. While lacking the body of a woman, he could tell that she would most likely be an early bloomer, a girl who would sprout up quickly. He could already see small curves beginning to form on her. All in all, she was indeed extremely beautiful.

Visions began to dance across his mind, each more lewd than the last, and he crossed his legs to keep the bulge that was forming in his pants from being seen. It took a while from him to calm down, and, when he looked up once again, Lucius was closing the door.

"Who was that?" he asked, hoping that his father hadn't noticed anything. Luckily for him, Lucius didn't seem to as he asked, "She's your new sister, Hermione."

Draco felt as if an bucket of ice water had been thrown on him.

"What?" he choked out, unable to believe that he had those feeling invoked in him by a sibling. Lucius, who seemed to guess what he was thinking, but only to a point, quickly said, "She's your step-sister. That's Narcissa's daughter from her late ex-husband."

Draco nodded as he realized that she wasn't a blood relative to him, which made him feel so much better, for that meant that he hadn't really been fantasizing about a blood sibling, though he was still surprised to discover that he was going to have a step-sister.

"You guys never mentioned that Narcissa had a daughter," he causually said, looking at his nails as he waited for an answer. Lucius frowned in thought. He had thought that he had mentioned Hermione at one point to his son, but – upon further thought – realized that he hadn't.

"Sorry, I thought I had. Anyways, she going to be your sister soon, and I was hoping that – while her mother and I are on our honeymoon – you would be willing to take care of her. We're not going to be gone long, just about a week," Lucius said, eager to have some uninterrupted time to bed his wife.

Draco snorted, able to figure out exactly where his father's thoughts had gone, and yet disgusted that he had been able to. He really didn't want to know about anything his father and Narcissa would consider as playing. Instead, he thought about what his father was asking.

In truth, he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle being around someone who had made him feel the way that he had, especially since that someone was going to become his sister. Yet, it maybe a good thing to spend some time with her; while he had never had such a lust attack from a member of the opposite sex before, he had been attracted to several other women, only to be turned off by them when they showed their personalities.

Something like that could happen with Hermione; after all, she was still young enough that he would most likely begin developing brotherly feelings for her if he staryed in her company long enough; in fact, he was positive that was what would happen. There was no way he would feel anything other than that for her sibling love, if that.

"Sure, I'll take her of your hands. We should get to know each other, after all," he said, his mind make up. There would be no way he would want her so much after being in her company for a whole week, no way that he would.

Oh, how he would be eating his thoughts later.


Time Together


The wedding went by in a blur of happy tears and pleasant phrases, as did the reception, until Lucius and her mother left, and she was left to find Draco Malfoy, her new step-brother. A frown crossed her face. She, in truth, didn't really care to go with Draco; he had stared at her all throughout the ceremony, making her feel uncomfortable.

Sighing, knowing that she really didn't have a choice. She started looking for him, finding him rather quickly in the room that Lucius had gotten ready in. She walked over to him, shivering lightly due to the cold air in the room as well as the creepy vibes she was getting off of him.

He heard her approach as he bent down to grab his bag, no longer wearing the suit that he had been. She noticed how he once again seemed to stare, and crossed her arms as she looked down, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Do you have your stuff here?" he asked suddenly, and she was quick in responding, nodding her head.

Go get it," he said, and she wasted no time in hurrying back ot the room where she had gotten dressed, and closing the door behind her. Biting her lip, she contemplated on whether she should get out of the dress now or later, and decided that, since she didn't know how long it would be before before she could get change out of the dress, to change in the room.

Carefully pulling out the decorations in her hair, she unbraided it as well before pulling the dress off, allowing it to pool at her feet. Reaching into her bag for a shirt and some lounge pants that she found pretty quickly, she threw them on before picking up the dress, and putting it back onto its hanger and into its garmet bag.

She was just closing her bag when the door opened. She looked up to see Draco standing there, an angry look on his face.

"What's taking so long?" he asked, trying to surpress the anger in his voice. He knew that he didn't have the right to speak to her in anger, but he was slightly tired, and they had a long drive ahead of them. He was going to take her to his father's home, which – from what he understood – was where her and Narcissa were going to move into after the honeymoon.

Of course, he was still living there, but, with college starting soon, he would be leaving right after they got back. He was planning on living in the dorms until he graduated, where he would more than likely take over his father's business. Not that he couldn't just apply for a job there now; he was wicked smart, and already new the basics to running the place, having helped his father a lot during high school.

However, the fact that she hadn't come straight back after getting her bag had him mad for some reason. He was kind of expecting her to do as she said, not leave him waiting for half an hour while she did something else.

It was a reaction that he couldn't help, as he usually had gotten his way in practically everything in his life. He was a spoiled little prince, according to a lot of people.

"I was just changing out of the dress. I didn't know how long we would be in the car when we drove to your house, and I didn't want the dress to get ruined," she said, slightly fearful of him. For a moment, she saw a look of anger cross his face, and it was a rather scary look.

He sighed, having noticed her reaction. He really should learn to keep a better check on his temper. After all, her reason was a rather reasonable one. Even he had to admit that he would most likely have had her change out of it. Ridding himself of his anger, he just nodded her head before motioning her to follow him.

Leading her to his car, he was about to say she could get into the front seat when she opened the back door, obviously choosing to not be so close to him, though he didn't realize that. In fact, he wasn't all that bothered by it, just choosing to get into the car. He was tired, and definitely ready to go straight to sleep.


The two hour drive had been filled with silence, as Hermione had fallen asleep twenty minutes in. Draco pulled up to the three-story mansion, parking the car in the garage before moving over to the back door. Unbuckling her, he gently picked Hermione up. He had to admit that she felt right in his arms, just the perfect weight.

Without realizing it, he was thinking about waking her up, allowing her to know that they had arrived at the house. Images of how he should wake her up passed through his mind as he walked into the house and up the stairs, each more disurbing than the last. These images ranged from gently shaking her away, which was the calmest, to placing her into his bed, peeling off her pants, and playing with her.

He shook his head, willing the least image out of his head as he headed toward one of the guest rooms. She's only ten, she's only ten, she's only ten he repeated in his mind as he set her down on the bed, willing himself to leave her alone. He almost didn't leave the room until he noticed that it looked like she was about to wake up herself.

He quickly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a sigh. He had to force himself to continue away from the door and into his own room.

He wished he never said he would take care of her, as it was only the first night, and – despite the fact that she was younger, so young that what he was thinking was extremely illegal, no matter where they were – he was still so tempted to turn around.

He fled to his room to keep from doing that.


Hermione awoke when she heard her door being closed. She could immediately tell that she was no longer in a car, as there wasn't any movement other than the movement that she commandeered her body to do. Sitting up rather reluctantly from the bed, still tired, she walked over to the window, looking out for a second before closing the curtains.

She was planning on sleeping in when morning came, and she wasn't exactly the kind of person who could sleep when there was light shining in. She didn't know what it was, but, if there was even a little light – she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Crawling back into bed, her mind went to her new step-brother. A frown twisted her face. Despite the fact that he hadn't really done anything other than yell at her, she wasn't really comfortably around him. There was no real reason why, just something in her that was warning her that he wasn't good to be around.

Her eyelids grew heavy as she tried to dismiss her thoughts. They were keeping her awake.


Dawn arrived. With a grumble of displeasure, Draco rose from his bed, stumbling towards the window. A scowl adorned his face as he realized that he had forgotten to close the curtains. Rubbing his eyes in displeasure, he headed towards his bathroom, already knowing that there was no point in going back to bed.

Once he was awake, he would never be able to get back to sleep.


He was in the kitchen, making food when Hermione stumbled though the doors, eyes slightly closed. She stilled looked half asleep, and he wondered what had made her stumble out of bed when he saw her sniff, and walk over to where he stood. A rather loud growl filled the air.

That answers my question he thought before piling some of the food that was already done onto a plate. Handing it to her, he turned and grabbed another plate before filling it up with some more food. He couldn't help but be slightly impressed with the way she ate; her eyes were completely closed, yet she ate daintily, without spilling a single drop of food. He had to wonder if she didn't have her eyes opened a tiny bit.

However, it seemed unlikely, for she never gave any indication that she knew he was watching her. She just ate, and, once done, pushed her plate away, and went to curl her arms up on the table. It was about that time that he realized that she was planning on sleeping some more, though it was time that she get up for the day.

"Hey, it's time to get up," he said, roughly shaking her. She groaned, unhappy as she pushed her head off of the table, blearily blinking at him. A glare crossed her face, and he almost laughed, for she reminded him of a little kitten trying to be a tiger with that look on her face.

However, knowing that she wouldn't like it if he laughed at her, he turned away, busying himself with clearing the dishes. He heard her leave the room, and waited until he was sure she wasn't within hearing distance before allowing himself a quite chucked as he quickly did the dishes.


Hermione stumbled her way back to her room, anger painted on her cheeks. How dare he she thought, for, though she didn't hear it, she knew that he had laughed at her. She definitely felt more awake than before, though she hadn't been asleep as long as she wished; she knew that it was around 2am that the party had ended at, and between the fact that she hadn't slept well in the three days before the wedding, she was beginning to feel a bit worn down from the lack of sleep.

Sighing, already knowing that she wouldn't be able to crawl back into her bed, she walked towards the bathroom, took a shower, and dressed. Then, she went off to do whatever she could find.


Four more days passed in this manner, with Draco being the first to wake, followed by Hermione, him cooking them breakfast. Then, they would find something to do: Draco usually alternated between cancelling parties that he was supposed to attend that week and packing while Hermione found herself either in the garden, where she had begun to weed and take care of the already existing plants, or in the library, reading.

It was nearing dinnertime when something happened that disrubted their schedule. Draco, who was down in the kitchen, heard the sound of something hitting the ground upstairs, as well as the crash of shattering glass. He immediately hurried up the stairs, turning into the first room on the right, where he found Hermione standing, wide-eyed, next to a pile of glass.

It took him two seconds to realize what it was that she had just broke. It was a vase that had been in the family for generations, having been made by a distant relative for his to be wife at the time. At least, that's what his father had told him when he was younger.

It had been a favorite of his grandmother's, whose room this used to be.

"Did you just…" he trailed off, feeling idiotic for even thinking about asking if she had broken it. It was obvious that she had.

White hot anger filled him. That vase was one of the few things he had left of her grandmother, and…well, he didn't know why he was so angry, just that he was.

He marched over to her, careful not to step on any of the glass, and harshly grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the bed in the room. Hermione gave a small cry of surprise and pain. He bent her over his knees, flipping the back of her skirt up to she off her panty clad bottom.

A yelp left her at the first smack, and she felt her eyes widen as she tried to squirm away from him. He held her in place with one hand while the other continued to smack her butt, hard. Several tears began to slide down her face. While she knew what he was doing, she was a bit lost, having never actually been spanked before.

She sobbed at the hits continued, having stopped actually struggling a while ago.

It was after the next hit, with caused a loud yelp from her, and stung his hand, that he realized that he had been smacking her for quite awhile, and let her go, shocked at himself. He took a look at the shattered vase. While it might have been quite valuble, that wasn't really any reason to do what he just did. So far, she hadn't don't anything to warrant such a punishment.

She was quick in scrambling from his lap, and she ran from the room, heading straight to hers. Her breath came out in gasps, and her arm and butt hurted. Crawling into bed, she formed a ball underneath the covers, hugging a pillow tight her herself.

"Hermione," she heard Draco call, and she unintentionally gave off a whimper as she heard her door open. She didn't look up or around as footsteps sounded into the room.


Draco walked towards the lump on the bed. He knew that this was where she was, had known the minute he had come out of his own mind to realized that she wasn't still in the room. He knew that he needed to talk to her about what happened, at least try to explain why he did it.

If that failed, he also knew that he had to keep her from telling anyone about it, especially their parents. He honestly didn't want them to hate him, for he knew that they would probably hate him if they knew about his thoughts for her. Knowing that he hit her for no reason would make them desperate to keep him away from her, and he really didn't want to be unable to visit his father, or her.

If he was unable to visit, then he would probably be unable to think of her as just another girl. Not that he could think of her as just another girl right now, but he was hopeful that he would eventually be able to do just that. He just needed to have the power to be around her.

So he got her attention, pulling off the blanket, and turning her over to face him. It only took a few words for him to convice her not to tell anyone what happened, using clever words to convince her that it was what would have happened anyways. It was a rather easy thing to do, as, while she knew his father a bit, she didn't know him well enough to know if what she was beng told was trie or false.

So, she accepted it as true.


The final days passed differently compated to the ones before. While they still continued to do what they always did, there was an underlying tension that hadn't been there before, and they avoided each other more than before, not even bothering to each together anymore; Hermione refused to enter the kitchen if he was there in the morning, and woud usually eat something for dinner before he would get hungry.

Still, when their parents came home, she didn't mention anything about him hitting her, and acted normal.

He left the very next day.


Happiness Doesn't Last Forever


"Are you sure you can't come with us, Hermione?" a young boy with bright green eyes and shaggy dark hair asked her as he once again pushed his glasses upwards.

"I'm sure, Harry. I have a lot of things to do at home. Besides, Mom and Lucius's anniversary is tonight, and I told him I would help get the house ready for after their dinner date," she told him, hefting her rather heavy bag onto her shoulder with a huff. It had been a couple years since her mother had married Lucius; today was their four-year anniversary.

"Oh, come on," whined her other friend, a red haired boy with blue eyes and freckles. "You don't have to waste your time helping him get things ready."

The way he mentioned her stepfather in distaste made Hermione's hands curl into fists. She still had yet to find out what Ron's problem with Lucius was – other than the fact that Lucius didn't care for Ron, and preferred him not to be around the house when he wasn't there – but it usually pissed her off a bit that he would act like that.

Other than that, though, they were the best friends a girl like her could have. They had met several years ago, after she had transferred to a private school closer to the house. Harry was the first to talk to her, offering to show her around the rather confusing building.

Ron, however, had been a little less inviting. Used to having Harry's attention, he hadn't been very willing to share it will some girl, as she had overheard him say to harry her first day, without him knowing she heard. His resistance to having her be Harry's and his friend in the beginning was what made it hard for her to consider him a worth while friend.

"Um, even if I don't have to help Lucius doesn't mean that I won't, Ron," she snapped at him. Harry sighed, knowing that his friends would most likely start arguing once more, as they often did. He had trouble understanding what it was that always sent them in that direction.

However, before it even got a chance to start, Narcissa Malfoy walked up to the trio.

"Hey, you ready?" she asked, speaking ot both Hermione and Harry. She and Lily Potter, Harry's mother, had become quick friends, and made an arrangement that worked quite well for them. Since they literally lived near each other as neighbors, they had decided to split who would drop off and who would pick up the two.

"Bye Ron," Harry said as he followed Narcissa to her car. Hermione didn't say anything, still angry at Ron. She practically stomped to the car in a moment of childishness, despite the fact that she had turned fourteen only five months beforehand. Calming down as she realized that she was no longer a child – in her mind, at least – and to act like she was acting at the moment wasn't what she should be doing.

So, in order to erase the anger that Ron had caused, she began to think about something else, and her mind immediately focused on the last few years. They had been good; actually, they had been more than good, they had been wonderful.

Lucius, while not her biological father, had made up for the fact by taking extremely good care of her. He treated her with kindness, would buy her nice things for her birthday and Christmas, and even made sure that she was never wanting when it came to new books and clothes.

He had also made sure to get her into the best school he could, which she enjoyed a lot, and never got angry with her. Of course, she hadn't broken anything like she did her first week in the house. She couldn't help but shiver as her mind went to her step brother.

She hadn't seen him since her mother and Lucius had gotten back from their honeymoon, as he had left the next day, early that morning before she had gotten up. She had been expecting Lucius to mention the vase that she had broken to her, as her why she had broken it, but he never did, originally leading her to think that it wasn't as important as Draco had made it.

She later learned that he hadn't mentioned her involvement in braking the vase, saying he had done it himself, when she overheard Lucius telling her mother. She had felt grateful to him for not telling them, but she was still scared of him, and was glad that he hadn't come try to visit.

They arrived home, and Harry waved a good-bye to her as he walked over to his front door. Hermione and Narcissa entered the house. While Narcissa hurried to her bedroom, Hermione headed towards Lucius's study. She knocked softly on the door before opening it, and saw that he was on the phone.

She stiid just inside the door, waiting for him to finish, and did her best not to listen to his conversation, though she was able to deduce that he was talking to his son. She stood there for about three minutes when he finally hung up the phone, and she walked towards him.

"Did you get what you want me to set up?" she asked, after saying hello and giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting.

"Yeah, it's in the spare room. But don't set anything up yet,I don't want her to see before it's time. I plan on taking her somewhere in about two hours, so you can start then," he said.

"So, where are you taking her?" she asked him. Hee just gave a small smile, as he had the last few times she had asked that. While she was curious to know where he was planning on surprising her mother, she had been trying to get the location out of him for her mother's sake, who had been asking her to find out.

Somehow, she thought Lucius knew this too, which was why he refused to tell here where he was taking her mother out. The only part of the plan that she knew was what she had to set up.

Knowing that she wouldn't get anything from him – she never did when he wanted to surprise someone, whether it be her or her mother – she walked to her room, where she proceeded to pass the time doing what little homework she had, and reading one of the new books she had gotten a few days ago.


"Bye hunny, I'll see you when we get back," Narcissa said, leaning down to give a soft kiss to Hermione's forehead.

"Alright, Mom. See you later," she answered back. Waiting until she heard the car doors closed, she bounded down to the closed off living room. Sliding open the closed French doors, she was quick in seeing the bags in the corner. She was quick in laying out everything, placing the items on a nearby table.

Then, she began to decorate, placing streamers and ribbons here and there. She also was artful in the placement of the fake flowers that had been bought as well. After that, she placed candles everywhere, a lighter next to where the majority of them were at.

She looked outside after that, unsurprised to note that it was already becoming dark. She had gone a little crazy, trying to be a perfectionist in the way she worked, and, without realizing it, two and a half hours had passed, and the day had darkened considerably. Looking at a clock, she decided to head back to her room and read some more. Her mother and Lucius probably wouldn't be back for another hour, and she wanted to take advantage of the quietness of he place.


A loud knock on the door awoke her. Disoriented, she blinked several times, trying to figure out what was going on. It took her several seconds to realize that she had fallen asleep, and had been out for at least two, three hours at most.

Where's Mom and Lucius was the first question through her mind followed by a wonder on who was at the door. Getting up out of her bed, she stretched, wincing as her body complained about the position it had been in.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mumbled as she hurried down the stairs. Opening the door, she was surprised to discover that two officers stood there, both wearing grim faces. Foreboding ran through her.

"Umm, can I help you?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" the one on the right asked. He was the taller of the two, as well as the more muscular one.

"Yes. Why do you want to know?" Hermione asked.

"We need you to come with us," the other one said.

"Why?" she asked again, not moving. She wasn't just going to leave with them without a good reason.

"I'm afraid that your parents have been in an accident," the one who had first spoken said. Hermione immediately felt horror at his words.

"Are they alright?" she demanded, only to have the officer look at her pitfully, giving her the answer she asked.

"I'm afraid that neither of them survived. We need to take you down to the station to identify them, and then see if we can't call someone to take care of you until more permenant arrangements are made," he said. Hermione tuned him out when he asked her to come down and identify the bodies they had, as it meant that there was a good chance that the police had been wrong, and asked them to give her a minute while she went to get her coat and cell phone.

She started for the door again, ready to grab the keys to lock it, when a sudden thought occurred to her, and she walked into Lucius's study, grabbing his contact book. She had a feeling that the number she wanted would be in it.


The numbness increased as she sat in the chair beside one of the officer's desk, where she had been sent to after identifying the bodies, who had indeed been her parents. She had been unable to say anything since she identified them. She just didn't know what to do at the moment.

The officer – the younger, shorter, more insensitive one – had tried to ask her if there was someone they could get ahold of, but the other officer had stopped him, telling him to give her some more time before asking her questions before sending him off to do something else.

That officer, the nicer one, waitng until he was sure that she could realize what he was saying and understand him before asking, "Is there anyone we can get a hold of for you?"

Hermione thought for a moment before she gave him the name and number of Lily Potter, Harry's mother. As he called her, Hermione looked down at her lap, realizing with a start that she held Lucius's contact book. She had forgotten that she had grabbed it, and realized that there was someone else that she had to talk to. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the officer.

"Can I make a phone call myself?" she asked him. He nodded his head and pointed towards the other phone, still talking to Lily. Opening the book, she located the name she wanted, and picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves. She had never felt the need to call him before, and she was slightly nervous to do so.

Dialing the first number under his name, she took a deep breath as she waited for him to answer. She was beginning to think that he wasn't there, and was going to try the other number when the phone was answered.

"Hello," the familiar and yet unfamiliar voice said. She took another deep breath.

"Draco…"


Obsession Doesn't Fade


Several states away, Draco sat at a desk, a phone to his ear as his eyes scanned the papers in front of him. He was listening to his father speak to him, having called to give his congratulations as well as asked about some of the company figures that didn't seem to make sense to him. It took him a few seconds before he realized what the problem was; his secretary, Pansy, hadn't properly type the information up.

He really needed to find a new one. This wasn't the first time she had messed up information on him; in fact, it was a rather regular occurrence since he stopped going out with her. He just didn't understand what it was that would make her – as well as the others her casually dated throughout the four years – to develop such petty means of revenge.

Of course, if he was honest with himself, he would admit the exact reason why they would have such petty reasons; he hadn't exactly been the best boyfriend. He had always compared each of the women he dated to his step sister.

Though four years had passed since he saw her, it hadn't lessened his attraction towards her. If anything, it had strengthen it. His dreams were always on her, always imagining on things that would leave him to wake with a rather painful problem.

Like the dream he had just last night. He groaned as his body came alive once more at the mere memory. He couldn't help it that the thought of her being submissive to him brought his body to life; punishing her was an even bigger turn on.

Realizing that he wasn't helping himself forget, he quickly got up and locked his door, drawing the blinds over the door window that was for looking out of the room to give himself as much privacy as he possibly could.

Then, he went over to his desk, opening a drawer to pull out a single picture that was facing upside down. Turning over, he revealed the face of the one who haunted him. Hermione's eyes stared up towards him, a soft smile on her face. A birthday cake with the number twelve was in her hands, the candle lit and ready to be blown out.

He remembered the letter his father had sent to him with this photo, commenting on the fact that Hermione had been so proud to have made the cake herself, despite the fact that it was for her birthday.

He hadn't gone to it; in fact, he hadn't gone to any family related functions. The picture was sent to him by his father, who had been hounding him to visit. He studied it, just as he had done several times before, thinking abou the differences between it and how he saw her the first time they met.

There were a few, like the fact that her hair, no longer a frizzy mess he had seen the night after the wedding, was now in soft, definitely natural curls. Her body, while not a full woman, was definitely developing, the slight bump on her chest showing that she was an early bloomer.

Setting the picture down, he undid his pants, pulling out his erected cock. He looked at the picture again before closing his eyes. He began rubbing his cock as he imagined Hermione on the ground in front of him, her eyes looking up towards him as she took him into her mouth.

His hand began to move in time to his imaginary Hermione, whose tongue swirled around the tip of his cock before sliding down the length. In his vision, her hands came up, one coming to play with his balls as the other began replaced her tongue on his length, slowly pumping him.

Her tongue went back to the tip, swirling and tasting the precum that had gathered. She nipped lightly, drawing a moan from him, right before she took his entire length in her mouth. Her sudden action stunned him, and his hips thrusted in her mouth.

Groans and moans of pleasure left him as his hand spead up, his imagination showing that she was now sucking him lightly as her head bobbed up and down. Feeling his balls tighten, his hips gave one last harsh thrust into his hand before he came. Slumping in his chair, it took him a few more moments before he gathered his barings.

He opened up a drawer, reaching in to grab a washcloth he had placing in there for such occasions, before grabbing the picture and placing it back into the drawer. Grabbing his cell, he looked at the time. Not even noon he thought, then pondered if it was worth finding someone to 'enjoy' lunch with. While the hand job he had just given himself had taken the edge off of his lust, he was still feeling lustful.

Damn he thought. He should have known not to pull out that photo until he was sure he wasn't going to have to do anything else. Now, his mind was going to partially be on wanting to have sex, which was hard to deal with when he had some other serious business to do.

Sighing as he realized that there wasn't much else he could do, he determined that he would ignore the problem s well as he could.


"Hey there," a familiar blond said.

"Astora," Draco greeted, not bothering to stop her when she planted her lips onto his in greeting. It was how she always greeted her favorite customers.

"Is Letha free tonight?" he asked. He usually preferred her to others, and he definitely wanted her after the day he had. He mentally sighed as he thought about it.

The first thing he had done was fire his secretary. Pansy had bitched and complained, but her multiple mess ups had spoken for her in the eyes of those she had taken her complaint to. The last he had seen of her was when security was escorting her out of he building.

After that, he had gone through multiple, mind-numbing meetings, whose purpose had escaped his mind. Instead of focusing on the meetings, he had been focused on what his step-sister might be doing at that moment. It was stupid thing to focus on, as he knew she would most likely be at school.

Then, after the meetings, he been given more paperwork to go through, including contracts and many other things that need his signature. Stack after stack of signature need papers had, after a while, made it feel as if his hand was going to fall off. He hadn't finished until about an hour after the sun had gone down.

Plus, he had to deal with the fact that he would need a new secretary, and, in between giving his hand a rest, he had been looking at resumes that the company accepted all the time for secretarial positions, trying to find one that he would not feel a need to try and find suitable as a substitute for Hermione; it never ended well when he did that, for, no matter what, none of them could erase her from his mind.

Which was why he had come to Astora's Harem, a private bachalor's club of very friendly woman who were willing to do almost anything for a price.

"Unfortunately, Letha is busy at the moment," Astora said, answering his question. He scowled before bidding them good-bye, knowing that his chance at seeing Letha tonight were very slim. He refused to see anyone else.

Letha was the only brunette who remotely resembled Hermione, and never minded when he called her that name. He had tried the other brunettes, and they hadn't appreciated the fact that he wanted to pretend they were someone else; Letha, didn't care, so long as she was paid.

Sighing, he got back into his care, deciding to heard back to his apartment, which was actually a hotel room that only clothes, socks, two pairs of shoes, and his bathroom supplies. Beginning to undress, he paused when his cell began to ring. Quickly fishing it out of his jacket pocket, he paused a moment when she saw that the police station in his old town was the number.

"What the hell…" he muttered, answering it.

"Hello," he said. His heart almost stopped when he heard the voice on the other end.

"Draco…"


Reacquainted


It was raining. That was the only thought that went through her mind as she stood in front of two coffins, Harry standing on one side, Ron on the other. Their hands were wound together, but she barely noticed them. The only things she noticed were the coffins, the rain, and the hand on her shoulder, the hand that belonged to the man who was holding the umbrella above her head.

Her head turned lightly, quickly catching the silvery gaze of her step-brother…and guardian. She, of course, didn't know this fact for sure, but a remembered conversation she had heard between her parents had pointed to this being a fact. They would be meeting with a lawyer later to discover if this was true or not.

She sighed softly, her gaze turning back to the coffins. Her mind, however, stayed on the subject of her step-brother. After her call to him the previous week, she had been unable to speak to him, unable to tell him what had happened, unable because she had begun sobbing. The detective, who had just finished calling Lily, had quickly taken the phone from her, finding out the nature of their relationship before informing him of the demise.

She didn't know what Draco had told the detective, though she had an idea when he arrived at five in the morning the next day, waking her and Lily – who had held her as she cried herself to sleep – up.

Her first look at him had been that he had changed, though not by much. He looked older, obviously, but she could still see signs of the eighteen year old that he had been when she first saw him, his eyes the most prominent. They were still the same silver-grey that she remembered, the ones that had tended to stare at her so excessively that it almost always left her uncomfortable.

She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be upon seeing him for the first time since he left the week after their parents had gotten back from their honeymoon. Part of her had known that he would come for her after hearing the news, though she wasn't expecting him so soon. Apparently, he had caught the first flight there in order to get there so fast.

Her eyes registered that the sermon the priest had been delivering was over, and she watched as everyone around them paid their respects before leaving. Ron was the first of her two friends to leave, not saying anything but gripping her hand tighter for a second before turning to go. Harry stayed a bit longer, but he too eventually left, leaving her allow with her step-brother.

It was when Draco's hand tightened on her shoulder that she realized that they had to leave, so they didn't watch as the coffins were lowered and buried. Turning, she walked away with him, his hand still on he shoulder.


She's so still and silent was the thought that went through his mind as his hand gripped her shoulder. He wasn't watching, nor was he listening, to what was going on around them. Instead, his focus was on her and the call he had gotten from her the week before.

His heart, which had almost stopped when he heard her voice, had stopped when he overheard her sobs. He had been in a panic as he repeatedly called her name, only stopping when a male's voice began talking. It hadn't taken long for the guy to introduce himself as a police officer and tell him what had happened to his father and step-mother, though the officer had been unaware of who he was, nor why he had been called.

He hadn't said who he was, only asking where Hermione would be staying until he could get there, and discovering that the neighbor would be keeping an eye on her. Once he knew that, he had packed everything, called the airlines, and gotten the first ticket he could get to head home.

He was glad that the airplane was on time, in leaving and arriving – even more so when he had no problem grabbing his stuff and getting a rental car. He was in a bit of a hurry, worried about Hermione. He wasn't sure what state he would find her in, just knowing that it wouldn't be a completely good state.

Having been told which neighbor she would be with, he parked in front of his father's – now his – house before heading over to the neighbors, who he remembered to be the Potters. He forgot about the time – about three in the morning – and knocked. Though she wasn't the one who answered the door, Hermione was the first person he saw when it opened.

Lily Potter, whom he remembered only meeting once, recognized him at one – his shared looks with his father easily recognizable – and let him in. He went straight to Hermione, picking her seemingly frail body up, and holding her just as tightly as she held him. His mind marveled at the way her body felt in his arms, how light she was; AKA, the wrong kind of thing to think about right now.

He had asked if she would prefer to sleep in her own bed, to which she nodded, and – after thanking Lily – brought her back home. He remembered where her room was, and placed her tired body in bed. He didn't leave the room; instead, he crawled into the bed next to her, though he didn't do anything but dream of touching her as he slept.

He had begun the funeral arrangements the next day, not wanting to leave them undone any longer, knowing that the sooner they got them done, the sooner he would find out what would happen to Hermione. He didn't know what his father and step-mother had decided to do if something happened to them while Hermione was under eighteen.

Which is what had led him to stand behind her, holding an umbrella over their heads, his other hand on her shoulder as he steered them to a car. The funeral had run through smoothly, people from his work, Hermione's friends, and Narcissa's friends coming to pay their respects.

Now, they were heading towards the law offices that his father favored. Riddle and Zabini Law Offices had been the offices that they always used when it came to business deals, as well as where they had listened to the will of his late grandfather. He had received a call from them earlier, as they informed him that they would need to see him, as well as Hermione, to discuss his father's will.

They were greeted at the door by Blaise Zabini when they arrived. Blaise, who was an old school friend of Draco's, was enthusiastic about seeing his old friend, though the enthusiasm was tempered with sadness. While he was glad to see Draco, he wished it was under some other circumstances.

As he made small talk with Draco, he led the way to his father's office – he wasn't quite a lawyer yet. He knocked on the door, alerting Damon Zabini, his father, that Draco and Hermione had arrived.

"Come in, come in," the usually happy man said, his voice and face uncommonly somber in light of his friends' death.

"I am assuming you may already know why I called you here?" Damon asked, after giving Hermione a friendly hug – he was her unofficial uncle – and shaking Draco's hand. He had been surprised when he saw Draco, for he looked quite a bit more like his father than he had before.

"To discuss the will my father left, as well as any will Narcissa may have left as well," Draco stated. Damon nodded.

"Your parents decide to have a joint will, instead of a single one for each of them. They thought it would be easier that way," Damon said, holding up a single piece of paper. He opened it before he began reading it out loud.

Neither Draco nor Hermione really listened to the beginning, where they basically gave the house and all of their assets to Draco, save for about five million and one of the Victorian townhouses they owned, which they gave to Hermione, though she wouldn't receive it until she was eighteen.

They began listening as they came closer and closer to discovering what Hermione's fate would be.

"And Hermione's legal guardian will be my son, Draco Malfoy, who will also…" Damon continued on. Draco was no longer listening, now feeling as if bugs were crawling inside of his stomach. He remembered what had happened the last time he had been in charge of Hermione – he had ended up spanking her. She was older now, and he wasn't quite sure what he would do.

Surprisingly enough, though, he didn't think he would be able to regret doing anything to her if he did do something. He had regretted it last time because of her age, but, as he had noted before, she was older.

While he wondered about what he might do with Hermione now his ward, Hermione wondered what would happen now. It was very likely that he would make her leave everything she knew to go live where ever it was that he lived. Would he be opened to staying in the house she was used to?

She was also nervous to be in his custody. Her mind was remembering the last time he had custody over her, and how quick he had blew up at her, while at the old house – Lucius and her mother had decided to move somewhere closer to the town so it would be easier for her to go to school and meet friends. While they still had that house – it was Draco's now – they usually only went there on vacations.

Damon finished reading the will, and Draco quickly brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

"So, that's it," Damon said, before apologizing that, as much as he wished they could speak longer, about something other than what they had come there for, he had another appointment. Hermione, who just wanted to go back home, not wanting to be around anyone really, was glad to know that they wouldn't be staying.


"Where are we going to live?" was Hermione's first question when they arrived at the house. Draco, who hadn't thought about this, bit his lip. He could tell that there was really no reason why he should make her leave what she knew for a hotel room. And it wouldn't be that hard to transfer what he had been taking care of where over there and bring it here.

"I suppose that we can stay here," he said, his mind on what it would take to get what he needed sooner rather than later. It wouldn't take long to get situated either.


The Beginning


Three months later


The last three months had been…okay. While Hermione and Draco didn't actively avoid each other, they were careful around each other, for different reasons.

Draco did so because, since arriving back there, it had been hard for him to control himself around her, and his dreams took a even more sexual turn, adding in her scent and the way her skin felt to them. He always awoke with a hard on now, and there had been times when he almost went to her to act out his dreams. It was only the fact that she didn't quite seem aware of her own sexuality – that she still seemed innocent, even if her body wasn't – that he hadn't attacked her.

He had given up on trying to even think about himself without her; now, he was only waiting until she was ready, though it was hard. His only consolation was the fact that, save for those two boys who were her friends, she didn't seem aware of the other gender all that much, something that seemed to add to her own innocence.

Of course, he wasn't there the whole time, as, during the first month, he had been back and forth between where he had been living and that town while getting his affairs in order. He had finished that within the first month, though he did did take two other trips back there within the second month, spending four days the first trip, and two the second.

Meanwhile, Hermione preferred not to be around him because he made her feel uncomfortable. While she was unaware of his obsession over her, there was something about him that seemed to tell her to stay away. And then there was the fact that, as the numbness that she had been trapped in wore off, and she begun to actually see the world around her, she had begun to notice just how handsome Draco was.

She wasn't attracted to him, at least, not fully. However, her body didn't seem to listen to her mind all that much, and there were times that it reacted in a way that tended to leave her confused. Plus, her dreams had become nightmares – most of them about him trapping her, hurting her – helped make her want to stay away from him even more, which was why she always accepted invitations to her friends houses, and tried to stay out longer than she would have. She actually liked it when he hadn't been able to stay the entire time, usually spending that time sleeping on the Potter's guest room.

Luckily for her, in her quest to stay out longer, Daniel, the guy she had been crushing on for a while, had begun to hang out with her, Harry, and Ron. They had also begun to get closer, and Hermione felt like she was floating on cloud nine when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

Of course, Draco didn't realize that this was happening, for she always seemed to let him know what was going on, and she usually came home in time for dinner. Her mood was also usually somber when she did so. Draco figured that she was still saddened over their parents death over three months ago. Plus, she did her best not to let him know that she didn't care for his company, as he had been nice enough not to move her away from what she knew, not forcing her to have to get used to a whole new school, a whole new situation.

So he knew that something had changed when Hermione arrived home that day, later than usual and in a better mood. He raised and eyebrow, wondering what it was that had made her come home with a bright smile, and couldn't help but think it was something that he wouldn't care for.

However, before he could ask her, he heard the door of her room shut. He stood, unable to help the suspicious feeling that coursed through him. He quickly walked up the stairs, coming to stand at her door, where he could hear her talking to someone on the phone.

"Unfortunately no. Ron interrupted before we could," he heard her say. "But it was so close. If Ron had stayed away for a few more minutes, Daniel and I would have definitely kissed each other."

Red painted Draco's vision. He had been unaware that she had been actually seeing someone, for she had never mentioned that she was with someone other than the two he knew of.

"Yes, he did," he tuned back in. "He also asked me out for our first date tomorrow."

Draco stopped listening then, heading straight for his own room. Anger now coursed through him, and he immediately picked up the first thing his hand came upon and threw it before sitting down on the edge of his bed, thinking about this change in development. He hadn't been prepared on what to do if she wanted to see someone other than him.

He didn't like it, nor did he like what he had over heard. Her lips, as well as her body, belonged to him. He knew that he needed to stop this, to keep her from this boy she was seeing. After thinking about it for a while, he remembered that he had been thinking about taking a trip alone to the mansion while leaving Hermione with Lily Potter. He hadn't actually made the arrangements yet, though, because he wasn't sure if he would do so, and now he was glad that he hadn't.

Hermione would be going with him, and they would be staying a while. With this thought in mind, he begun to pack some clothes, being quick about it.


Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Hermione, while Draco was packing his bags, she was trying to pick out the perfect outfit to wear on her date tomorrow. She still had Ginny on the phone, holding it up to her ear as they tried to find something for her to wear. Of course, they weren't having much luck, what with her and Ginny unable to agree upon something to wear.

Ginny wanted her to were a dress, the red dress she had bought for Hermione as a gag gift to be precise, and Hermione was refusing to do so. She had her reasons for not wanting to wear it; the dress was a bit provocative on her, meant to seduce the person it was worn for. While Hermione was sure that she would eventually wear it for Daniel, she wasn't quite ready to send that message to him yet, and even told Ginny so.

Ginny laughed at her, finally agreeing that she was right before suggesting that she wear her ankle length jean skirt and forest finery top. Locating the top but not the skirt, she decided – with some input from Ginny – to wear the forest fire skirt instead. Saying bye to Ginny, she placed her choices onto the edge of her bed before her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet.

She laughed to herself as she left the room, not noticing that Draco stood near it with several bags in his hand.


Draco was surprised when she opened the door and breezed by him, not even noticing his presence. It angered him, that she didn't notice his presence, even without seeing him. He was always aware of her when they were in the same room, even if he didn't see her.

Upon entering the room, his eyes saw the clothes on the bed, and a sneer overtook his face as he saw the skirt and top. Setting the bag right next to it, he began filling it, starting with her rather plain undergarments, followed by her actual clothes, including the outfit she had chosen for her 'date'.

Then, as he was placing the clothes he found on the ground into the bags, he came to the dress, the one that Ginny had been trying to get Hermione to wear, and her froze as he held it in his hands, his body strongly reacting to the mere thought of her wearing it. He quickly added it to the bags before leaving the room, having filled all three of them completely. He made sure to turn off the lights upstairs as he passed the switches.

Taking them to his car, he peeked into the kitchen as he passed it, having sensed that was where she would be found. She was eating beginning to eat something, having just finished making it. Continuing to his car, he placed the bags next to the ones that were filled with his clothes.

Slamming the trunck shut, he headed back in to lock the house up and retrieve her.


Hermione jumped slightly as she heard the trunk of the car slam shut. Hand over her heart, she turned, heading towards the garage only to almost run into Draco as he headed towards the front of the house, where she heard the door lock. Her brow narrowed in confusion, as he went by, locking things up and shutting off lights.

Wha…she thought, he hand coming out to stop him before he entered the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting everything closed up," he answered. However, before he could continue, she interrupted.

"I see that. But I don't get why your doing that. I mean, I'll still be here. There's no reason to shut everything down," she said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, you're not staying here. Your coming with me," he simply said. Her mouth dropped open.

"Um, no I'm not," she said. "If your going somewhere longer than a few hours, I can stay with Ginny."

Normally, she wouldn't argue about where she would go anyways, but she didn't want to miss her date. And besides, she knew that she would most likely go over to Ginny's tomorrow anyways, in order to get ready for said date, so it wasn't like she would be unexpected. As for tonight, Lily wouldn't mind her staying over. She had done it a few times already.

"I'll go get a bag ready," she continued, about to head upstairs. However, she stopped when his hand grabbed her arm.

"It's not needed, as your not staying here. Now lets go," he said again, this time pulling her towards the garage. She winced at the tight grip he had on her arm.

"I said no," she said, trying to wrench her arm away. His insistence of her going with was starting to scare her. However, his grip only got tighter, and his other hand shot out, connecting with her face. A stinging pain erupted from her cheek as her head snapped to the side. A whimper of pain left her, just as any anger that was beginning to grow did, fear taking it's place.

She was suddenly reminded of the only other time she had been smacked. He had been the instigator of that time as well. Another thought occurred to her. Why did she have to go with him? Obviously, this was not a business trip as she had thought it was, for he usually didn't demand that she go with. And it wasn't her birthday anytime soon, so he couldn't be trying to surprise her.

"Why?" she asked, knowing that he would get what she was asking.

"Because your mine," he hissed. "And, unfortunately, you don't seem to get that fact."

Her eyes widened in surprise for two reasons. One, his declaration that she was his surprised her, as she wasn't sure why he would even think that, much less say it. And two, there was no way he could know anything about Daniel, her almost kiss, and date unless he had been spying on her.

As that thought occurred to her, he smiled wickedly at her, her face having shown the thought. He pulled her close, his other hand coming up to tangle into her hair, tilting her face up towards his.

"What, you didn't think I wouldn't find out, did you?" he said, turning them so her back was up against the wall. He let go of her arm in favor of grabbing her chin. His other hand slid down from her hair, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"It's not nice to hide things," he continued. Her lower lip trembled as his hands moved once again, down to her waist this time, and she blinked in surprise when her feet left the ground. His body pressed her against the wall harder, holding her up. Her head hit the wall behind her as she tried to put distance between his face and hers, for they were now level.

"And if you wanted to experience your first kiss," his hand pushed her head forward to retangle into her hair, his other on her thigh, which her had picked up to wrap around his waist, "all you had to do was ask."

"No," she said, but the rest of what she planned on saying was lost as he crashed his lips to hers. She squeaked, trying to move her head so that his lips no longer touched hers, but the hand tangled in her hair kept her in place. His tongue entered her mouth almost immediately, unhindered by her lips, for she hadn't had time to close her mouth.

When trying to move her head failed, she bit down, tasting blood as a muffled cry erupted from him. He pulled away, glaring at her, but the tears that had begun to fill her eyes as she realized that he had stolen her first kiss blurred her vision. He moved away from her, letting her drop though his hand remained in her hair.

A yelp of pain came from her due to the movement, for his hand remained at the level her head had been, and she felt as if he was trying to either pull out every strand of hair in his grasp or if he was trying to keep her off the ground by holding her hair. Which ever the answer was, it hurt.

He pulled her after him as he headed towards the garage, swallowing the blood that pooled in his mouth. Anger fueled his movements as he practically threw her into the side of the car, though she hit the ground before she hit the actual car. Another yelp of pain was heard as she pulled her now bloodied elbow towards her, trying her best not to aggravate the wound.

He walked towards her once more, grabbing her uninjured arm as he opened the door, pushed the seat forward, and pushed her into the back, making her climb into the car as best as she could. She turned and sat, knowing that it would be useless if she tried to climb back out, as he had immediately placed the seat back into it's correct position.

She saw him walk back into the house, and contemplated working her way back out, but quickly dropped that idea when he walked back out of the now dark house, two pairs of keys in one hand, a first aid kit in the other. She watched as he got into the car, practically tossing the kit at her while setting down the keys – which she recognized to be the ones to the mansion – before he shut the door, the dome light flickering out.

At least I know where I'm going she thought, though it didn't comfort her as much as she wished it would. However, it just wasn't enough to know where she was when she would be with someone who was obviously insane, and the fact that she would be in his complete mercy didn't help.

Especially when he's mad went through her mind as she blindly found one of the gauze packs, and opened it to press against her wound. Though she had already been hurt, something seemed to whisper that he was still angry at her for biting him, and her wounded elbow wouldn't seem to be an appropriate punishment.

She swallowed hard, biting her own tongue as he drove away from the house that had been home for her since her parents had moved them there. The scenery around them passed by fast, and she somehow knew that screaming wouldn't help her, nor was trying to distact Draco; it would most likely cause an accident, and, no matter how much she didn't want to be near him, she wasn't ready to die.

She gasped out loud when the next hard turn her took sent her crashing toward the other side of the car from where she was, reminding her that she had forgotten to throw her seatbelt on. Her head banging against the side reminded her, and she struggled to sit up to put it on, the first aid kit forgotten, though the gauze that she had been using to staunch the bleeding remain on the wound, the blood acting like glue to it.

Realizing just how fast he was going, a muted hope flaired in her. There had to be a cop somewhere. But, as she saw the gates to the mansion open and close, that hope melted away, leaving nothing but despair as she watched them close behind her. She yelled at herself for not putting up much of a fight, though she knew that she should of done so, but fear had dominated her, just as it was doing once more as the mansion came into view.

As the car stopped and he climbed out, she finally had a glimpse of his face, shuddering at the fact that he still looked angry, and knew that she had been right. He wasn't satisfied by her wound as a punishment; he had something else planned. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was, either.


Punishment


She pressed herself against the opposite side of the car, though she didn't have to worry about him going for her straight away. Instead, she watched as he went to the trunk of the car, opening it and grabbing some of the bags before heading towards the front door.

She thought for a moment that he would set the bags on the porch, but noticed him open the door and turn the porch light on, making her look around the car and noticed that the house keys were gone. She hadn't even seen him grab them. She noticed that he was in there for awhile before he came back out. She thought he was going to grab her, and moved herself back into the position she had been in.

It was as he was passing her again, with what she figured to be the rest of the bags he had brought, that she realized that she had an opportunity to escape. It seemed he was taking his sweet time in where he placed the bags, probably to draw out her panic at the thought of what he might do next. It was working, she knew that, but now, the fact that she might have a chance to get away from him overshadowed the panic.

She waited until he walked through the door before launching for the little latch that would push the seat forward and grabbing the car handle. She did her best to keep quiet, though she knew that it wasn't very easy, and push the door opened. Unfurling herself from the back, she picked the first direction she could, and ran.

She had just managed to hit the woods when she heard the scream of her name from him. She forced her body forward, her hands out in front of her as she tried to keep from running into a tree. She stumbled several times, tripping over roots and broken branches. She could hear him behind her, but it was getting to be fainter, as if he was going off in a different direction, or she was getting further away from him. She felt relief at either, for that meant less of a chance of him catching her, and more chance of her making it to the road, though whether or not there would be someone driving by would be slim.

Her relief was short lived as she tripped over something, her hands and arms being scraped against the ground. A cry of pain left her as she hit her already wounded elbow against something else, something that felt sharp. She moved her arm away, carefully using her other hand to discover what it was that she had hit, as it was too dark to really see her surroundings.

Her fingers traced the sharp rock, noting that it would make a rather good weapon. She could hear him heading towards her once more, having heard her fall and cry, and she was now feeling the consequences of her actions in the form of burning muscles. Plus, her injured arm was even more injured than before, a small river of blood flowed from the wound.

She pushed herself up, gripping the rock in her hand as she did so. She held the rock in front of her, the sharp edge away from her body. Her arm shook as the sounds of him coming towards her became louder. Then, it was silent, and she heard him say her name, sounding as if he was right in front of her. She swung her arm out, misjudging just how close he was to her, and stumbled as her own memento of the movement caused her to feel off balanced.

She immediately realized her mistake in making herself vulnerable when he grabbed her wrists, forcing them together into one hand while removing the rock with his other. He pulled her forward, her soft body hitting his hard one as his free hand wrapped around her waist. He did a little bit of twisting them around so that her back was against his front, her wrists still held in his one hand, pushing lightly against her chest while his arm stayed at her waist.

He picked her up a bit, making it so her feet barely touched the ground, and leaned forward slightly, his lips touching her ear. She couldn't help the shiver of dread that went through her as his breath danced across her ear and cheek.

"Now, that wasn't a very nice thing to do, Hermione," he said, squeezing her tightly, causing a gasp to leave her just as her breath did. He began walking, heading back to the house. She trembled, knowing that struggling would get her nowhere, as his tight grip on her prevented all movement save for her legs, and, while she could kick, she wasn't sure that she could kick hard enough to get him to let her go.

The light from the house was soon seen as the woods became less dense. She gulped as they got closer, feeling as if she was about be enter a prison rather than a house that she had been to several times. He didn't let her go until they passed through the door; even then, it was a simple placing her down on the ground and removing his arm around her waist so he could shut the door.

He pulled her up the stairs, grabbing the only bag she could see – wondering where the others were for a moment, before a stumble over almost missing a step brought her back to the moment. Not wanting to think about what he might do, she began to think about something else, deciding to focus on how she would fix her elbow the first chance she got, and fix it properly this time as well. She could tell that it was still bleeding, for when she looked down to watch her step after her stumble, she could see little drops of blood fall towards the ground.

She looked up, planning on speaking, only to stop when he came up to the door to her room and opened it. Her mouth snapped shut as he harshly pulled her in, finally letting her go. She stumbled a bit, catching herself on the end of the bed. She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was planning on doing, but his back was turned to her, and she couldn't see what he was doing, only that he was rummaging through the bag.

Her elbow then stole her attention, as it began throbbing with pain, almost like it was reminding her that it had been hurt. She walked over to her desk, opening it to find her first aid kit, though a part of her seemed to believe that the wound would need more than what she could give.

She looked towards him, noticing that he hadn't stopped his looking, and then came to sit on her bed, the kit in hand. This time, with the light, she was able to see how bad it was and winced. It seemed that the rock had managed to dig into the previously scraped skin, making an actual cut appear.

Grabbing yet another gauze pad, she pressed down on it, wincing, and waited for the bleeding to stop. While she waited, her eyes went over to Draco, whose position hadn't changed. She made herself small, still a bit fearful of him, but his lack of doing anything was quickly making her feel as if she had been wrong about any punishment towards her.

However, just as she was checking to see if the bleeding was still as heavy as before, he straightened and turned towards her. She shook at the look of anger on his face, though she already knew that it was there. However, it was the belt in his hand that scared her the most. It seemed that he had decided how he was going to punish her.

He grabbed her uninjured arm and pulled her up again. She went with the movement, though she didn't allow her hand to move from putting pressure on her wound. He stood her up, setting the belt down for a second before his hand went to the button on her jeans. She panicked immediately, going to move, but one of his arms wrapped around her waist immediately while his hand undid the button.

Her jeans slackened immediately, and began to slip as he pulled the zipper down, his fingers brushing up against the front of her panties as did so. He brought his hand to the side of her jeans, pushing them down until they were at her feet. Then, he bent her over on the bed, pressing her front to the mattress. She had to turn her head to avoid her face being pressed into the mattress as well.

She didn't see him pick the belt back up, her head turned in the wrong direction, but she did hear him pick it up. She tensed as she heard what sounded like the flick of it in the air, and waited for it to hit.

It hurt, a lot more than she was expecting, as he hit her. It felt like a thin stream of fire was repeatedly hitting her, and she silent wished that he was hitting her like the last time he had, with his hand. Compared to the pain now, if felt much tamer.

The next blow caused a cry out of her, though something other than pain went through her as well. It wasn't until two more hits that an idea of what else she was feeling came to her, for the hit after that resulted in a low moan. She slammed her mouth shot after that, instantly mortified with herself.

How was it that her body was enjoying this? She, at least, her mind wasn't, yet the pleasure that flowed through her told her that what was happening to her body was turning her on.

Draco paused in his striking when he heard her moan, just as surprised as she was. Did she enjoy this? He placed the belt down before slowly running his hand down from her back, across her ass, and to the area between her thighs. She squeaked when she felt him touch her there, trying to move away for the first time since he had placed her in the position she was in. He ignored her, save for the tightening of his grip on the back of her neck, which was how he had kept her from moving.

He could feel her wetness, and couldn't help but smile at the fact that he had caused her arousal, even if he hadn't been going for such a result. This was a punishment, for both her biting of his tongue and her trying to leave him. Yet, she wasn't taking it much like a punishment.

As much as he liked his affect of her, as he picked up the belt, he knew that pleasure wasn't the feeling she should have. As he flicked the belt back, he prepared himself to use more strength in his hit.

A shriek left her this time, for only the feeling of pain went through her with that hit. The next four hits hurt just as bad, and she couldn't help begging him to stop, something she hadn't done since he started. He froze when he heard her apologize, though what she was apologizing for wasn't know to him. Was she apologizing for biting him or running from him? Either or, it really didn't matter to him. She was still apologizing, and it was enough for him. Besides, he honestly didn't like spanking her a a punishment; maybe as something fun, but definitely not a punishment. He just couldn't think of another way to punish her without causing damage.

He let her go, picking her up and turning her around. He didn't try to make her sit – the mere brush of her bottom against the front of him had sent whimpers out of her mouth, showing that the skin was too tender to be touching anything. Instead, he turned her around to face him, where he took in the tear-stained cheeks, watery eyes, and trembling lips.

His eyes looked downwards, quickly discovering her wounded elbow, which he had forgotten about. The gauze wasn't red from what he could see, leading him to see that she had stopped the bleeding.

He felt bad for having not noticed her arm, only now just noticing the thin trails of blood that had run up her arm previously. He knew that she had hurt her elbow earlier, before they left the house, but he didn't think it was this bad. However, as he moved her hand away, and looked at the wound himself, he found an answer to his question.

Well, that's what she gets for trying to run he thought as he gently cleaned and bandaged the wound. Once done, he wrapped his hand back into her hair.

"Now," he said, pulling her head back so she was forced to look at him. "I think it's time to retry that kiss from before, don't you?"

She wanted to say no, even wanted to wrench her head away from him, but her sore bottom told her that saying no wasn't a good idea. Of course, whether or not she said no wasn't even considered by him, for his lips immediately sealed themselves to hers.

This kiss wasn't like the last. It was slower, softer in a way. He gently sucked on her top lip before sucking on the bottom, his teeth nipping on it for a second before releasing it. His tongue then swept against the seam of her lip, asking…no, demanding permission into her mouth. When she didn't open it automatically, he allowed his free hand to travel downward, stopping on her lower back, just above her ass.

The warning was clear to her: open her mouth willingly, or face more pain. She opened her mouth, and his tongue immediately swept in. Unlike last time, he took his time in exploring her mouth, making sure that no crevice stayed hidden. Then, he rubbed his tongue against hers, demanding that she participate as well.

She remained motionless, not stopping him but not participating either. He thought about forcing her to participate, maybe using the same way he got he to open her mouth, but decided not to do so. Instead, he parted from her.

"That was better," he said, still not releasing her hair. "However, next time, I expect you to participate next time, understand?"

He let her go then, not bothering to get an answer from her as he moved away. He turned towards her for a second to point out that her clothes were still in the bags that were on the other side of the bed, and that he would see her tomorrow before walking out, closing the door behind her.

Hermione stood there a few minutes, not sure what to think anymore. Her mind was clouded with the thoughts of what he had just done, of the kiss he had given. The first kiss had been harsh, the second not so much. In fact, it she was honest, she wanted to experience the second kiss again. It had been a bit of a trial to stay still, not to join in, for she had once thought that her first kiss would be just like that, and it had been hard to remember who it was delivering the kiss to her.

Groaning to herself, she turn in a half spin, allowing herself to fall onto her bed, where she stayed for the rest of the night, falling asleep in that position.


Listen to Me – Rules


Bright lights from behind her eyelids were what woke her. Sitting up, she flinched as she sat on her butt, which felt tender. As she stood and looked around, she recognized her room at the mansion, not the room she had been expecting to see. It took her several minutes to remember everything that had happened a few hours ago.

A shudder ran through her as she thought about what he had done. It wasn't the kidnapping part that made her shudder, no; not even the idea of the fact that he had taken her first kiss made her shudder. It was spanking that he had given her, the fact that she had felt pleasure at the punishment. She wasn't a masochist; at least, she didn't think she was. She didn't get off on pain. Yet, for some odd reason, that was what had happened.

Hermione sighed, pushing her hair away from her face. The moment caused her arm to send out a bit of pain, as if reminding her that her butt wasn't the only part of her that hurt. Sighing again, she walked toward the bathroom, her body doing the automatic motions that she would usually do in the morning, while her mind was thinking about the situation she found herself in.

She didn't know what was going on now. Why Draco had suddenly snapped? Where had he gotten the idea that she was his? She barely knew him; why would he think she was his? She shook her head; thinking about these questions weren't doing her any good. She was going to have to ask them to him if she wanted an answer to any of them.

She got into the shower, feeling relief as the hot water cascaded down her body. It felt nice against her tender butt, soothing it, and she was loathed to leave the warmth. So, she procrastinated, prolonging the time that she had in there as she washed herself, slowly washing her hair and conditioning it. All too soon – at least, that's what it felt like to her – the water began to run cold.

She hopped out of the shower, drying herself off before dressing in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. She changed the now wet bandage on her arm, scrunching her nose at the wound, which looked horrible – like someone had dug a spoon into her arm, and pulled out some skin, muscle, and tissue – and vaguely wondering if it would need stitches. She doubted that, even if it did, she would be getting them. From what he had done last night, it didn't seem like he would be willing to take her to a doctor or calling one there.

She would most likely tell them about how Draco had gone crazy and kidnapped her if that did happen.

Sighing as she realized that her only option would be to run again – look how well that had turned out – she knew that she had to at least try again. Not trying would make her a coward, something that she wasn't. She never gave in easily – which, looking back at last night, made her sick when she realized that she had given in too easily. She should have fought more, should have fought until he knocked her out.

Who know what he would have done to her then her mind supplied, telling her that it was alright that she hadn't fought back, that it was a good thing that her instinct to survive was stronger than her pride. She mentally scowled, still not believing that, though she knew that her mind was right. He could have easily killed her of she fought, or knocked her out.

Grabbing a pair of socks, she threw them on, and looked around for her shoes only to realize that there were none. He hadn't packed any shoes for her! She huffed. Well, escaping has just gotten harder she thought, realizing that the other shoes she been wearing were gone as well. Still, she didn't want to stay, and she pulled on as many pairs of socks as she could. Then, steeling herself, she quietly headed out of her room, looking around to see if he was anywhere near her. She knew that her chances of escaping now were pretty low, but still…she had to at least try.

She made her way downstairs, being as quiet as she could. She listened as quietly as she could, hearing nothing as she hurried down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom step, she looked around, seeing and hearing nothing around her, and she hurried towards the door.

Almost there she thought, only to pause when she heard Draco's voice say, "Going somewhere?"

Her muscles seemed to freeze her in place, just inches from the door. She knew that he was behind her, could now hear him walking down the stairs. How had she not noticed him she thought, knowing that he had to of been there before she had come down. She had looked behind her several times, so he couldn't have followed her.

"Well, Hermione, where were you going?" he asked, and Hermione couldn't stop the whimper that came when she felt his hands on her shoulders. She tensed as he turned her around, making her face him. Her hands formed balls at her sides as he grabbed her chin and made her look at him.

"Answer the question, Hermione," he commanded her, slapping her harshly several times when she retained her silence.

"Nowhere," she whimpered, flinching when she saw his hand rise again. Her cheek felt raw from the previous slaps, and she knew, even without looking in a mirror, that her cheek would be reddened from the assault. Her eyes were watery, but she held the tears at bay, not wanting to cry in front of him.

"Luckily for her, he believed her, bringing his hand down slowly to brush against her abused cheek. He could see the tears in her eyes, begging to fall while she fought against them.

"Okay, well, it's time for breakfast. And we have things to talk about," he said, pulling her towards the kitchen. He led her to the table, which he had moved to rest against the wall on one side. He had made a sort of cage like area, formed by two walls, the table, and another chair, that she knew was where he would place her, which he did.

She sat there as he made food for them. He made something simple – eggs and bacon – not feeling the need to make an extravagant meal. Placing a place with a fork in front of her, he sat down in the chair next to her, cornering her completely. She made no move to eat until he prompted her too; telling her that he had no plans over moving from his seat until she had finished what was on her plate.

Her teeth clenched together at how his words made her feel as if she was a child being told to finish their vegetables. She wasn't a child, though; she was a fourteen, almost fifteen, year old girl; a teenager. She didn't need him acting as if she couldn't do a damn thing without him telling her to. If she didn't want to eat, she didn't have to.

However, before she could tell him that she wasn't hungry, her stomach, empty as she hadn't eaten since the snack she had at the Potters before she arrived home yesterday, growled its protest against her want to not eat. Traitor she thought to it as she gave in, eating with reluctance. He waited for her to finish before standing up, taking her plate and fork with his to the sink where the other dishes sat.

He walked back towards her, holding out his hand for hers. A look of distain crossed her face as she stood up on her own, and moved to walk past him. An angry look crossed his face as he grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her along behind him. She stumbled, having not expected the movement, and tried to wench her arm free as he pulled her up the stairs.

Not knowing where they were going, she was slightly surprised when they passed her room, heading for one that was further down the hall; he was taking her to his room. Panic bubbled in her; was he going to rape her?

"No," she said yanking her arm away from him harder. She felt his grip slip a few inches down her arm, coming to a stop around her wrist. He sighed, turning towards her and yanking her toward him, picking her up into his arms. He continued his journey to his room, ignoring her struggling.

He didn't put her down until they entered his room, which was more like three rooms with a bathroom attached. The room they entered was styled as a sitting room, with a love seat and sectional sofa set adjacent to each other, a coffee table between them, all set within the middle of the room. Two closed doors, on opposite sides of the room, could be seen as a thick curtain was held opened to allow light to enter the room.

"Sit," he told her, though he really didn't give her a chance to follow that order, having grabbed her arm to lead her over to the love seat. Pushing her into the seat, he sat next to her.

"Now, I believe that it's time to talk," he said. Hermione, having realized that he didn't plan on raping her – though she didn't see the purpose of having to come into his room to speak – got her courage back up.

"Obviously, we do," she snapped at him, glaring. Another slap was her reward, though it wasn't as harsh as his earlier ones. She bit her lip to keep from shouting out at him, as well as to keep the tears that wanted to fall once more. He had hit the same cheek as he had earlier, which was feeling tender after having some time pass so that the numbness that had been there had faded.

"I suggest you listen to me right now before you go running off your mouth," he told her, his face stern before it softened. He brought his hand up, tangling it in her hair.

"But first," he murmured softly, pulling her closer to him, "I forgot to get a good morning kiss."

His lips touched hers softly before he applied pressure, pulling her into him more as he did so. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she sat as still as possible as he swept all over her mouth. She wanted to bite down again, but the last time she had done that had resulted in harm towards her.

He carried on like this for about a minute before pulling away, releasing head from his grip. She immediately put as much distance as she could between them, though it wasn't much, as her back hit the arm of the loveseat. Besides, he wasn't letting much room stay between them moving closer with every move she made away from him.

He continued to move until she was trapped between him and the arm of the loveseat. Leaning into her, he said, "Now that I've gotten my morning kiss, time for our talk. Well, actually, I supposed that it's more of a 'what the rules are' conversation that we're about to have rather than an actual talk."

She frowned, but kept her mouth shut, more out of curiosity than fear of being hit again. She was curious at to what his 'rules' were.

"Smart girl," he murmured quietly, almost too quietly, as if he didn't want her hearing what he said. He cleared his throat, finally giving her room to breathe as he stood up. Moving in front of her, he waited until she was looking at him before continuing.

"Okay, I guess the first thing to say, since I'm sure you will notice sooner or later, is that my cell phone is the only phone in the house as of now," he said. Shit Hermione thought, surprising herself. She usually didn't curse, whether out loud, or to herself. She knew plenty of words – Ron really didn't censor himself around anyone, save for his family – but she herself had never felt the need, and she always hated when he cursed.

"Now, I'm not saying that you can't talk to your friend Ginny, but you can' only do that when I say you can use my phone. Do not try to find and steal my phone, or you will be punished. You will have to ask to use it if you really want to use it, and I will either say yes or no."

She started shaking her head without even realizing it. Between the fact that he was basically isolating her from everyone else, and expecting her not to talk to Harry or Ron – he might not have said it out loud, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to be okay with her talking to any male other than him. That also meant, of course, that talking to Daniel, and telling him that I couldn't make the date because of my suddenly psycho step-brother decided I belonged to him. Oh God, he's going to think I stood him up, and then I'll never have this chance again she thought.

"And, just so you know, if I do say that you can," he continued, and she noticed that the way he said that sounded as if he wasn't going to let her use it so often, "you will have to stay in the same room as I am. Don't want you trying to cause trouble when there isn't any."

When there isn't any she mouthed to herself, though she meant to say them out loud. He noticed, though his eyes had previously been looking behind him, as he had turned from her to look outside.

"What was that?" he asked her, his voice deceptively calm. In truth, he was slightly angry that she had disagreed with something he had said. It was slightly obvious that she did so; you don't mouth something and not mean it, especially when your face holds a disbelieving look on it.

Hermione, sensing the danger of what her answer may bring, couldn't help the shiver that came over her. She wasn't sure that it was healthy, the fact that she could switch from being angered at him, hating him, to feeling fear of him, fear of what he would do. The fear she felt towards him robbed her of any courage she may have had.

"I said, what was that?" he asked her again, leaning down until his face was less than an inch away from hers.

"N-n-nothing," she stuttered, cursing at the fact that she hadn't been able to stop the fear in her voice. A small cry left her when he roughly grabbed her hair and yanked.

"Rule number two: Don't ever lie to me. If I ask you something, you tell me the truth to the question," he stated. "Oh, and rule number three: if I ask a question, will answer it. I don't care if you don't want to answer it, you."

He punctuated this by another slap, one that was hard enough that her head would have snapped to the side had he not been holding her head in place by her hair.

"Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or do you need to be punished again?" he asked. "Oh, and please note that your punishment won't be the same as last time."

He didn't need to say that she thought. Just the thought of being punished again had been enough to make her stubbornness crumble. Now knowing that he would do something that would most likely hurt even more than spanking her, she was now terrified of what he planned on doing.

"I…I…I was commenting on the fact that you…you said that there wasn't any trouble, so that I shouldn't go causing it," she stuttered out, tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew that her face was showing her fear to him, but she honestly didn't care at the moment. He was scaring her, and her fear was consuming her. She had a feeling she would be ashamed of herself later, but, right now, all she wanted was to for him to not be angry.

"And why were you commenting on that?" he asked.

"I-I-I c-can't r-remember," she said, stuttering again. She wasn't lying; she couldn't remember what she had been thinking at the time, her mind too clouded with fear to do so. It must have been obvious on her face that she wasn't lying, because he released her without a comment.

"Alright then. Where were we," he muttered, moving back to where he had been standing prior to his questioning her. "Oh yes, we had just gone over the first three rules, and are now moving onto the rule number four. Never try to leave. I know that it's what you were trying to do this earlier – don't lie to me next time – and, let be real, your not going to get very far without hurting yourself. I would prefer that you not get seriously hurt while here."

She nodded her head, though she still looked frightened, afraid that he would do something in retaliation for her attempt this morning. He seemed to sense that, for he then said, "I won't punish you for this morning. Though you should have guessed, you didn't know this rule at the time, and I don't see the worth in punishing you for something you didn't know.

"Anyways, onto the final rule that you have to follow. It's a simple rule, really, so you shouldn't have any trouble breaking it."

He walked back over to her then, getting into her face once more. She swallowed harshly, unable to take her eyes off of his. He looked serious, and something told her that this was the one rule she was going to hate the most, the one that, even if she tried not too, she had a feeling she would break.

"You are to never, ever deny me what I want from you," he said, and she shook, unable to stop herself. "I do not want to hear the word 'no' coming from your mouth if I want something from you. I am demanding your complete and total obedience from now on. Understand?"

She nodded, and he looked over her with a rather cold look in his eyes before he gave her a quick smile.

"Okay, that's all now. You can go unpack your stuff now. I know you haven't had time to do so yet, having fallen asleep early last night," he stated, moving away from her. Hermione wasted no time in running from his room to hers, slamming her door behind her. She turned and leaned her back against it before sliding down towards the ground, where she finally allowed herself to break down entirely.


Draco couldn't lie to himself as he watched Hermione practically run out of his room: he liked how she fear him. The knowledge that she feared him so much that it robbed her of the courage he could see, simmering deep in her soul, was intoxicating to him. It also meant that he had a weapon to use against her, something he had done several times that day, though he had to use some persuasion as well.

Like when he first saw her, trying to leave. As he had told her, he knew that what she had been trying to do. It was partially why he had smacked her around, though most of it was because of her refusal to answer his question. He really didn't like the fact that he had to hurt her some more – he had checked in on her during the night after she had fallen asleep to check and make sure that the damage wasn't too bad – but, if that's what it took for her to do as he told her, he would do it.

He wasn't kidding when he told her that he expected her complete obedience.

Sighing, he walked into his bathroom, stripping his clothes to take a shower. He hadn't done so earlier, having been busy setting things up.

After realizing that she had fallen asleep, he had left, driving to the closest Wal-Mart, where he had bought new door locks and food, two things that were definitely needed more than anything. The only other things he wanted to get, he couldn't get there. He figured he would either order them online or drive to where he could during the hours they were opened.

Upon returning home, he had installed the new locks on the front door, the back door, Hermione's bedroom and bathroom doors, and his own rooms' doors. They were the only doors in the place that needed new locks. He hid the spare keys to the door locks, and placed the others on the same chain that held his car keys, which he then placed in the garage, on a hook to high for Hermione to reach without the help of a chair or stepladder.

Then, he had gone through the place, and gotten rid of all the phones, hiding them in the shed. He didn't want her to try and call someone to tell them that he had kidnapped her, though, as he guardian, he hadn't. He did have the legal right to take her with him, as she was a minor, though he hadn't exercised that right quite yet.

Once that was done, he put away the groceries, glad that he had put everything cold away before he started on the locks, as it had taken him more time than he had realized. He had only gone to sleep after he had all the food put up. He slept until he heard the shower that Hermione was running. He had gotten up then, heading down to the kitchen, planning on starting food until another thought occurred to him, leading him to rearrange the way the table was set.

When he heard her coming downstairs, he had begun walking there, only to notice her trying to leave. Anger had burned through him, making him lash out at her with the way he used her fear to his advantage, and then hitting her. He cheek had been pinker than it's natural color because of his actions, and he had a moments feeling of pity for her before he squashed it down. Being soft around her could come later, once she was obedient.

Hitting her during their talk earlier, however, hadn't caused any pity in him. Instead, he reveled in the way her cheek had turned to a dark pink at his touch, in the way her eyes looked at him with fear.

His 'rules' had been a 'just thought of them' sort of thing, save for his do not leave and phone rule. In truth, the first was the only one he cared about her following, but the latter, well, when he realized that he had his phone on him – he hadn't really thought about bringing it with him – he figured he may as well let he know that he had it, and that using it without permission would result in trouble.

The 'answer every question I ask, and answer them truthfully' rules had come to him after she had refused to speak, and then tried lying to him once again. He realized that those rules were needed.

The final rule, though, had only come to him after he realized that it was what he wanted, looking at her while she trembled, almost unnoticeably, on the loveseat. He wanted her obedience, and he was determined to get it. Of course, he knew that, though she had said she understood what he was saying, she wasn't gong to just go along with it.

While the first three rules would most likely be followed without problem, he knew that she would most likely try to leave. It wasn't in her nature not to allow herself to stay trapped in a place if she didn't want to be without attempting to leave until she couldn't do so anymore. If he was honest, he was looking forward to breaking her enough so that she didn't try leaving.

And he knew, without a doubt, that she wouldn't just hand her obedience over to him, that she would fight against him, telling him no and attempting to deny him what he wants. He didn't care if she said no; he would subdue her if she fought. And he knew that he would enjoy doing that as well.

He just wondered how long he would have before he no longer had to worry about her fighting him.


Lesson # 1


Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot Hermione berated herself repeatedly. Now that she was away from Draco and her fear had begun to subside, she was having trouble believing just how submissive she acted around him. I mean, sure, he had basically kidnapped her and was holding her hostage, and, sure, he obviously wasn't above using violence to get her to do what he wanted, but still…

Sighing, she allowed herself to fall backwards, hitting and bouncing on her bed a bit before she settled. Readjusting herself and pulling her legs up to wrap her arms around them, she curled up into a ball, shaking horribly as she remembered the fear she felt in Draco's presence.

Even here in her room with him nowhere in sight, just the memory was enough to send her body into uncontrollable shivers.

Trying to get herself under control, she finally decided that she needed to do something to distract herself. Spying the bags of things that he had packed for her, she realized that it would probably be a good idea to put the stuff away. It might only give her hands something to do, not her mind, but at least it was something to do.

As she unpacked the bags, she did her best to think of something else other than her situation. Her thoughts turned towards her friends, and she couldn't help but groan out loud as she realized that Ginny would be upset with her. As trivial as it was, Hermione had been on the receiving end of Ginny's anger before, and never wanted to be the object of Ginny's anger again. Just one time had her scared, despite the fact that the other girl was younger than she was.

Just the reminder of Ginny's anger brought forth images and memories of Harry and Ron, and all of the times she had seen Ginny go off on them. Like the time Ron had insulted Hermione, calling her a know-it-all bookworm with no life. It was before they had become tentative friends, back when Ron felt that Hermione was trying to steal the spot as Harry's best friend, a completely ridiculous notion in her mind.

Unfortunately for him, Ginny, who was her second friend, after Harry, heard, and…well, Ron found himself in the hospital with a broken arm after being faced with the dragon-like anger of his sister. Even after he made friends with her, he always made sure to think twice before saying anything that might be an insult to Hermione…or anyone Ginny valued as a friend.

More memories flooded her mind then, all of them of different things that happened once she had started school. The many memories flowed through her mind as she placed her clothes on her dresser and hung her shirts. Several of them stuck out, like the memory of Harry asking a girl named Luna out on a date, which happened several months before her mother's and Lucius's death. Another memory that stuck in her mind was the one dance that she had gone to, only because her mother had begged her too. She had gone with Ron – something she always regretted, as it made him think she had some feeling for him – but, luckily, about an hour into the dance, Harry, who had gone with a girl name Cho, who ditched him to hang out with her friend's date, had unknowingly rescued her from Ron monotone presence. She had spent the rest of the evening dancing with Harry.

She was smiling as she finished unpacking, though it quickly faded as she realized that, though there had socks included in one of the bags, she hadn't run into any pairs of shoes. Dismay ran through her; she had been hoping that she would find at least something durable to cover her feet for when she managed to escape. And she would. Though he had expressly forbidden her to leave – and she hadn't attempted to fight him on the issue – she had no plans of actually obeying that rule.

She honestly didn't know when she would manage to do so, but she wasn't going to just sit around and allow Draco to do whatever it was that he wanted to do to her without a fight.

Hermione swallowed harshly as she realized that, while she didn't know why he wanted her there, why he was suddenly so possessive of her and felt the need to isolate her, but she had an idea of the reason. It was enough to make her sick. She was only fourteen for crying out loud, granted, she wouldn't be fourteen for much longer, but still…

The thoughts she was sure he had in mind for her made her cringe with disgust. The idea that he wanted her in a sexual way, that he wanted to…do sexual things to her made bile rise to her throat. She swallowed it back, mostly due to the fact that she really didn't feel like throwing up, despite the fact that the situation called for it.

Instead, she forced herself to think of something else, and her mind turned to how she would escape from her step-brother. Obviously, she would have to be very careful, maybe wait a few days before attempting it. Something told her that he would be watching her for awhile, that he probably didn't trust her, so she would have to make sure that none of her actions hinted at what she would be planning.

Grabbing a notebook from her desk as the ideas in her head began to form into plans, she began to write them down. Most of what she wrote was repetitive, repeating the same steps over and over again, but with some differences between them. Once she had written all of her ideas and plans down, she looked them over, feeling glad that she was being a bit more productive, that she was still able to think and keep calm.

As she closed the notebook, a sudden thought occurred to her: what would she do if he saw this notebook? Would he wonder what she was using it for? Would he read it? Panicked, she thought of where she could put it that he wouldn't find it, whether he was looking for it or not. No idea came to mind; she had never kept a written record of anything private, whether it was here, or in her actual room, so she had no idea what the best and least likely to look place to put the notebook at.

Biting her lip, she decided to place it in-between the mattress and box spring for now. It wasn't really the ideal place – she feared that, if he looked, he would find it – but it was also a place out of the way, and not a place where he would accidently find it like putting it in the desk. Nor would he suddenly see it either, at least, not on accident. As useless as it was, she knew that any anger she was sure she would feel would be justified if he brought it and its contents up to her.

Straightening the bed up so that there was no sign of something having been hidden, she went to sit back down when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Freezing in place, she mentally thought please pass my door, please just pass by my door. Luck was not on her side, for she heard the footsteps stop right in front of her door, and saw the knob begin to turn. She backed up to the wall, pressing close to it as if wishing she could sink through it.

Coward she thought to herself. The first thing she needed to add to her list of plans was that she needed to get over her fear of him. She couldn't put any of her plans into action if she was so afraid of him that all of her actions showed that she didn't want to be near him at all. He would be suspicious of her if she didn't control her actions.

With that thought in mind, she pushed herself way from the wall, steeling herself to hopefully show no fear, and waited or the door to open.


He could hear her moving around in her room as he slowly walked by her door for the sixth time since she had left his rooms. From the sounds of it, she was unpacking her things, and he felt a simultaneous feeling of happiness and disappointment run through him. Happiness because her unpacking meant that she saw that there was no point in believing she had a chance to escape, that she was excepting his control over her, however small this gesture was. His disappointment, however, also stemmed from the same fact, as it meant that he had lost a chance at fighting her into submission, as he had been looking forward to doing so. Just the idea of how he would get his point across…

Well, there was no use in lamenting over a lost idea. It was better that she was accepting of the fact that she wouldn't be leaving for awhile, if ever. Satisfied at what she was doing, he went back to his room, where he did his own unpacking, having been busy adding adjustments to the house the night before. He had been expecting her attempts to escape, and had updated the locks around the place, even adding new locks to some doors. The only rooms he had not done that to were to his suite and Hermione's room.

He didn't plan to allow himself to be taken off guard in any way, shape, or form.

Once he was done, he sat down on his bed, his eyes found the clock and he sighed. It was still a little too early for his liking, and he still had some things to do, but he honestly didn't care for that fact. He didn't like not having Hermione in his view at all times. And she was in her room, where he hadn't managed to make sure that she couldn't get out of…

With those thoughts in his mind, he quickly stood up, walking towards her room. He slowed down as he got near her door, listening hard to see if he could figure out what she was doing. It was silent in her room, and it took him all of his strength not to run and barge into the room. Instead, he reasoned with himself, telling himself that she was just being quiet. She must have heard his footsteps, and was waiting for him. It was that thought that allowed him to appear clam as he opened the door.

He felt relieved at the fact that his thought had been right, that she was just waiting for him, it being the reason that she was so silent. However, his relief was tarnished by her expression. It was a mixture of determination and defiance, with a hint of fear, if he looked hard enough.

He wanted to smirk. It seemed that she wasn't giving up quite yet. He could tell, see it in her eyes that she was going to fight, though through what method, he didn't know. If he was honest, he was looking forward to see what ideas she came up with. He had no plans of telling her about the extra security measures he'd put on the house. Telling her would take away the fun he would have when she discovered them herself.

"Time for lunch," he said, motioning for her to follow him. He half expected her to decline the opportunity of food, but her stomach growled out then, making it hard for her to say that she wasn't hungry. He had to hold back a chuckle as she marched passed him, as the defiance that showed on her face was laughable in his opinion.


Hermione walked straight towards the kitchen, her lips pursed together with displeasure. She had been planning on saying that she wasn't hungry when her stomach growled, immediately disproving what would have been her future statement. She was aware that he was right behind her, allowing her to lead so that he could keep an eye on her. She could feel his gaze on her, and did her best to convince herself that he was just looking at the back of her head, even if she wasn't being true to herself. It was better to lie to herself at the moment, else she might do something she'd end up regretting, like running straight for the door.

That would certainly make it harder for her to be able to successfully escape sooner rather than later.

She made it to the kitchen before he stopped her, guiding her to the seat she had sat in earlier. Frowning, she began to move ever so slightly towards another chair, but stopped when he shot her a quick glance that seemed to say 'do you really way to do that?' Something told her that she really shouldn't test him on this matter, so she sank back into the chair she was originally sitting in, an unintentional pout forming on her face.

He made lunch quickly, just as quickly as he had made breakfast, not bothering to make anything spectacular. Not that she really cared, but she kind of wished that he would ask her what she wanted to eat instead of just making something. She thought about voicing that thought, but changed her mind at the last second. She really didn't want to converse with him, and didn't know how to say what she wanted without there being a chance that he would take it in the wrong way.

So she ate what he made, ignoring him the best that she could as he sat where he did next to her. It worked, for the most part. Then, just as she was finishing her meal, he made a move.

Her body froze as his free hand came to rest on her thigh just above her knee. He didn't move it, just keeping it there, yet she still felt uncomfortable at the contact. When her body finally became unfrozen, she shrank away from him, hitting the corner of the wall in her haste to put distance between them. It did her no good, as he simply followed, but he didn't do anything but keep his hand where he had placed it. After a few minutes, Hermione realized that he wasn't going to move his hand away from her, and that he wasn't doing anything else put holding her knee, and slowly began relaxing.

After she was fully relaxed, he finally moved his hand away, and got up, letting her get up as well.

She walked back to her room after lunch, glad that he wasn't following her as she feared her would. However, he had stayed downstairs, only watching as she walked upstairs before disappearing to do whatever it was that he had stayed downstairs to do. She wasn't sure what she should do with her time, other than stay as far away from him as she could. The brief thought of trying to find the phone he mentioned crossed her mind, but she doubted that he would put it somewhere easy to find, and she didn't want to be caught trying to find it. She would wait a little longer before attempting to discover where he hid it.

The hours passed as she thought of how to relieve her boredom. She really wished that she had a book on hand, but most of the books were in the library, which was on the first floor, where Draco was at, and she really didn't want to run into him. So far, with the exception of this morning and lunch, he had left her alone. She hoped that he would continue to ignore her in this fashion, hoped that her earlier thoughts were just that, thoughts, and that he had some other, non-sexual reason for bringing her here, and calling her his.

It was these thoughts that helped her get through being near him when it was time to eat again, after she had stayed in her room, completely bored out of her mind with the lack of something to do. Dinner was a repeat of lunch, with the fact that, as she neared finishing eating, his hand suddenly came to rest on her knee. He chose the same location as he had chosen the first time, and, unlike the first time, it took her less time to unfreeze, move away, and then accept his touch. She finished her dinner, waited for him to allow her up, and went back to her room, where she stayed once more, bored until it was time for a shower and then bed.

And so the days passed in this fashion, though she was smart enough, after the third day, to realized that she didn't have to stay in her room, and ventured out into the library, staying there for most of the day, only leaving when it was time for lunch and dinner. She only realized her mistake in leaving her room unoccupied when she walked in and saw some changes made, such as the new locks on her windows, and a deadbolt on her door.

Anger coursed through her when she saw this. How dare he make it so that she couldn't open her windows or leave her room if he didn't want her to. She didn't need to attempt to open her door to know that was the reason for the deadbolt on it, the intent was clear.

Though it had only been three days since she'd been there, Hermione had to deal with his demands, and had done so without much complaint. She'd had to kiss him before she could eat breakfast, a chore that, while she still hated it, she performed without much fuss, figuring that it would be better to do so rather than attempt to fight what she knew would be a losing battle. As it was, since she didn't fight him as much, the kisses he gave her were much shorter than those given when she fought against him, so it was a much better option in her opinion.

Then, if the kissing wasn't bad enough, she had to endure him touching her knee, which, in of itself wasn't to bad, but it was his touch, not someone else's, and she still hated it, especially when his hand would, as it did that morning, beginning moving in a rubbing motion up her thigh and then back down to her knee. When he had done that this morning, she had flipped, grabbing his hand and removing it forcefully before she'd even thought about it.

He hadn't done anything though, other than scold her for doing so, and replacing his hand back on her knee, but now, seeing the new additions to her door and windows, she wondered if this was her punishment. It took her a few minutes, however, to realize that it probably wasn't. It seemed to impersonal, especially compared to the smacks she'd gotten as punishment, for it to be a retaliation for that morning.

Hermione, despite how mad she was, didn't go and confront him as she so wished to do. Instead, she decided to bring books up to her room, leaving less chance for him to do something else, like removing the door lock on the bathroom door, or suddenly deciding to put on a camera, something that she had noticed he had placed in the library, as if knowing that was where she would most likely head off to when she decided to leave her room.

However, with the exception of her third day there, the rest of the days that went by did so in a way that could almost convince Hermione that nothing had really changed. Only the fact that she was practically shut in the house, as well as her door and windows' new accessories, reminded her that things had. By the time a week had gone by, she no longer flinched away when his hand touch her knee, nor did she freak out upon the few times he rubbed her thigh, though she did stiffen.

By the time two weeks had passed, she didn't stiffen anymore. She had gotten used to his touch, a little to used to it, if she was honest. She expected it, now, and found it a bit odd the one time that he hadn't placed his hand on her knee. The odd feeling went away when he placed it there, a minute later than what she was used to.

And, something else that didn't change, was the fact that she usually only saw him around breakfast, lunch, and dinner, though she did catch glimpses of him whenever she went from her room and the library. The lack of seeing him made her think that her earlier thoughts were indeed wrong, that he didn't have anything sexual in mind, though she remained uneasy. Sometimes, his hand would come a little too close to her core, though he never actually touched her there.

So, when the forth week hit, having gotten used to the ' daily schedule' that they had somehow ended up following, she was surprised when, upon coming down for breakfast, he stopped her. Confused and hungry, she went to push passed him – though he hadn't allowed her to cook anything yet, she doubted that he would get real angry with her if she did make herself something to eat.

She was wrong in thinking that, for, when she went to move around him, his grasp tightened, and he began to drag her once more. At first, when he dragged her back the way she came, she thought her was bringing her back to her room, only to become nervous when he passed her door by. Then, she thought he was heading for his suite, and her confusion strengthened when he walked right by it. It was when he had her walk up the second set of stairs in the house, the ones that led to what had been her mother's and Lucius's floor, that she realized where he was bringing her. Her confusion morphed from wondering where she was being led to why she was being brought here.

The door that blocked the top floor off from the rest of the house was still closed, as she had imagined it to be, as it almost always was, yet Hermione could still remember how the room looked, as well as the bathroom, having played in the tub when she was younger. She watched as he opened the door, bracing herself for the pang of familiarity and sadness that she suspected the room to bring, as she hadn't been in there since their death.

Remembering what she was going to see, she was confused at first when he opened the door. Frowning, she looked around. This was not the same room from her memory. This room was different, darker than the one she remembered, and she couldn't help but feel a stab of pain run through her as the last, untainted memory of her mother proved to be non-existent. Even if she hadn't been planning to come upstairs anytime soon, the idea of the room that her mother had spent quite a bit of time working on, adding little touches of her upon every surface – from the carefully picked furniture, the sea blue and forest green sheets that made the bed, and the green walls – were now gone hurt just as much as when she was first told that her mother was gone.

She kept herself from feeling the pain by taking in the changes. No longer did blue and green dominate the room. Now, the walls were painted a dark red color that reminded her of blood. The blue and green marble carpet was no longer there, removed to show the dark, gleaming wood that it had been covering. She wondered how he had managed to remove that without her notice, only to remember that he had made a few trips to this house a few times in the first month after the accident. A black rug with intricate Celtic symbols in red thread laid on the floor as well, right at the foot of the bed.

The bedding matched the rug, black with red threading in intricate Celtic symbols, sheets that alternated between solid black and red, and the pillowcases being the same as the coverlet.

But those weren't the only changes made to the room, and the other ones had her confused once more, and more than fearful as her eyes slid over the chains bolted to the wall next to the bed. The door to the closet was closed right next to it, while the bathroom door was no longer there. Swallowing hard, she felt his hand leave her arm, and she turned, surprised to discover that he had pulled her into the room without her realizing it.

Hermione turned to glance behind her, surprised when she noticed that she had missed the addition of a new lock on the door, which he had just closed. She swallowed harshly when she noticed that it was the same type of lock that decorated her door, bringing back all the thoughts that had ran through her mind her first day trapped in this house to run in the forefront of her mind.

She backed away from him, but didn't get very far before he reached and grabbed her arm again, leading her towards the bed. He pushed her, making her fall onto it. She wanted to get up, even went to, but Draco sat down himself, grabbing her upper arms as she went to move.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded. "Why won't you let me go?"

She struggled, trying to get him to let her arms go, but he simply increased the pressure he held them until it hurt.

"Hermione, stop," he said, waiting until she did before he did anything else. He didn't say anything else once she stopped, just released her arms. He grabbed her wrists, pulling them towards him. Confused once more, she didn't fight until she realized where he was leading her hands.

"No," she said, yanking her hands back. The loose grip he had on then tightened, and he pulled her back towards him, transferring her wrists to one hand so he could wrap his arm around her, and pulling her into his body. He released her wrists, and she immediately attempted to push at his chest, trying to get away from him. Several tears began to slide down her face as her efforts proved futile.

"Please, don't," she whispered, though she didn't stop trying to get away. She was aware of the fact that his other hand was undoing the button of his slacks. The sound of the zipper being pulled down seemed overly loud to her ears, and she refused to look down, knowing that she would see something she really didn't want to.

She kept yanking her hands away from him when he grabbed them, trying to bring the down to wrap around his member. Growing irritated at her lack of doing as he was trying to instruct her to, his free hand changed its course, going and grabbing he chin, gripping it harshly while forcing her too look at him.

"Hermione, stop," he commanded, his nails digging into her skin as he tried to get her to stop. Realizing that she had no hope of escaping, she stopped her struggling, though her tears still flowed.

"Now, I'm going to bring your hand to me, and you are going to do exactly as I show you and what I tell you, understand?" he said. She shook her head as best as she could when he released her chin, though it was a head shake that seemed to spell defeat rather than one of someone prepared to fight. She had been fighting for the last few minutes, and, unfortunately, instead of gaining progress, she just seemed to be tiring.

"It's okay, Hermione. I know that you haven't done this before," Draco said, misunderstanding why she was saying no. "That's why I'm going to show you what to do."

He took one of her hands, holding it firmly as he guided it to his semi-erect cock. She didn't fight this time, shuddering when her hand made contact with his member. He showed wrapped her hand around it, moving it up and down in a show of what he wanted her to do. Once he was sure she had the movement down, he let his hand fall away, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of her hand.

Holding her tightly to him, he whispered into her ear.

"Go a bit faster, and squeeze lightly. Then, bring your other hand into play."

She did as he said almost mechanically, forcefully pushing her mind away from the act she was performing, and thinking of something else. It was the only way she could make herself do this without being sick. She doubted he would be very happy if she threw up on him. Even then, she still felt sick as she heard his moans and groans.

She added her other hand, as he had told her to, but was unsure of what to do other than what he already had her doing. Then, he showed her, his hand coming up once again to show her where he wanted it, which turned out to be on his ball sack. He had her fondle them, while increasing her speed on which she rubbed his member.

His moans increased as his hips began to unconsciously thrust in her hands. She paused for a second, only for him to tell her to continue. She did so, and noticed that he seemed to grow larger in her hands, and that she could feel the blood pulsing through the veins underneath her hand.

"Run your thumb over the head," he said, his statement punctured by a rather loud moan as she did what he asked. She encountered some sort of liquid – 'pre-cum, if she remembered correctly – that had built up on the tip, and she resisted the urge to look down to she what it was. Without thinking about it, she brought her entire hand upwards, allowing her palm to rub against the head so the liquid coated it before returning to his rod.

He gave his approval of the action with another loud moan.

She rubbed for a few more minutes, brushing her thumb up against his head a few more times before he stiffened, and his semen shot out, hitting her legs and hands, as well as covering her hands. She froze herself, unable to keep herself from thinking about what had just happened, barely able to keep from looking down. Instead, she brought her hands up, noting the white liquid - semen – that covered them. She rubbed her fingers together, thoughtless as she did so.

Then, before he could stop her, she headed towards the bathroom, turning on the sink, and washing her hands. She grabbed a washcloth, wetting it and cleaning her legs off, unable to stand the feel of the semen on any part of her body. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back, shaking as she scrubbed at her legs furiously before doing the same to her wrists and getting rid of what drops had gotten onto her arm.

She had just cleaned off the rest of the semen when she saw his reflection in the mirror. He was covered, his pants back in place, so she didn't have to worry about seeing something she didn't want to, her teary eyes catching his in the mirror. She watched as his reflection became bigger the closer to the mirror he got, and he pulled the washcloth from her hands, turning her around so that she was facing him.

Pulling her out of the bathroom and back towards the bed, she panicked. Screaming and fighting against him, he had a hard time getting her back to the bed, which he had pulled the coverlet down on, leaving it folded at the end of the bed. After seeing her reaction to his cum when it shot out and covered her, he figured that it would be better if she didn't notice the fact that it had shot onto the coverlet as well.

It took a bit to wrestle her onto the mattress, holding her down with his body. She wasn't able to move much, having to move her head to the side so she could breathe, for it was her front pressed to the mattress, not her back as she would have expected. The fruitless struggles did nothing to help her, and she was finally forced to give up on them, his body covering hers quite efficiently.

Once she had stopped, and he was sure that she wouldn't start again, he moved himself away from her, sitting down and leaning against the headboard while picking her up and setting her into his lap. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. Looking up at his face, she saw that he was looking down at her, as if looking for something, what she didn't know, nor did she know if he found it, for he sighed just then, looking away from her as he contemplated something.

Then, his face turned back towards her, determination written all over it. She didn't have much warning before his lips crashed over hers, hungrily devouring hers. Shock went through her – the almost desperate way he kissed her was surprising, almost demanding all of her attention. She almost didn't notice the fact that his arms had moved until she felt his hand on the bare skin of her abdomen.

That was when his actions began making sense to her. Squealing, she began to struggle once more, only to have the arm that was still around her waist tightened its hold. Panicked, her own hands came up, grabbing at his wrist and trying to force it away from under her shirt. He finally released her lips, moving his down to her neck, where he began licking and sucking on the skin. Using the distraction of her insistence to remove the one hand, his other loosened from her waist, coming to the button of the jeans she wore.

She froze when she felt her jeans loosen as the button was undone. Whimpering, she clamped her legs shut together, removing one hand to stop his other hand. Releasing the skin in his mouth, he slowly drew his mouth upwards, lightly kissing the skin until he was at her ear.

"Hermione, don't fight me. If you don't fight, it can be very pleasurable," he whispered in her ear, enveloping the lobe in his mouth, and sucking lightly. He moved the hand that was under her shirt upwards, seemingly oblivious to her attempts to remove his hand from there, only stopping when the hand was cupping one of her breasts. Her body stiffened, and he stopped his movements, releasing her earlobe.

"Just relax, Hermione. Just relax."

He kissed his way back down to her neck while his hand manipulated her bra cup to get to her actual skin. Brushing his thumb across the nipple, he was pleasantly surprised when it pebbled at his touch, leading him to realize that she wasn't as unaffected as she most likely wished to be. This seemed to encourage him, for his hand immediately began to play with her nipple once more before moving to her other breast, giving it the same treatment.

A soft, almost hesitant moan fell from her lips when he allowed his one hand to venture down her pants, his fingers brushing against her over her panties. He continued his attention, moving from playing with one nipple to the other. He allowed his other hand to rub her core over her panties for a while before slipping under them, touching the bare skin. The wetness that showed proof of her arousal made him happy, knowing that, though she was protesting earlier, she had followed his advice. He easily parted her thighs so that he could play with her more fully.

However, in truth, Hermione hadn't really followed his advice of her own accord. Her body had made the decision for her, unable to keep for allowing what he was doing to affect her. The way his hand played with her breasts and fingers with her core was causing her blood to race in response to his actions. Even his mouth, which traced up and down her neck, sucking harshly at some spots, lightly at others, had a hand at the fire racing through her.

He slid a finger into her, causing her to stiffen for a second, but it didn't last. His finger stroked inside of her, causing the fire to burn hotter through her. A coil in her stomach seemed to tighten. Moans, unheld, felt from her lips, which he then covered with his own in another kiss.

Then, just as she thought the fire in her blood couldn't get any hotter, it felt as if an infernal exploded in her. Colors danced in front of her eyes, the coil in her stomach sprung apart, and she tightened her muscles around his finger, holding him there as she fell apart.

Once she was able to think for herself, she felt sick. She knew what had happened, having read about it in the same book that had told her what it was that had come from Draco when he 'released' after she had given him the impromptu hand job. She couldn't quite move her body yet, feeling drained, but she didn't want to stay in this bed.

Draco, seemingly unconcerned over her state of mind, slipped his finger out of her, bringing it up to his face. He inspected his hand, his other still casually lying on her breast where he had stilled it upon, keeping her against his body. He brought his finger up to his mouth, tasting her juices as he licked his finger clean.

Then, he let her go, surprised when she sprang up and ran to the door. He stood up and walked towards her, not at all in a hurry, but the fact that he had locked the door was probably the reason for it. She wasn't watching him, more concerned with getting the door opened than anything, just a bit too panicked to think rationally to of a reason as to why it wasn't opening.

She couldn't help the shriek that left her as his arms wrapped around her again, pulling her against his chest. Crying, she tried to unhook his hands from her, fighting against his hold as she did so, only giving up when he maneuvered himself it to where he had her hands locked at her waist, holding her as still as possible.

"Hermione," he said, speaking gently. He waited until he was sure that he had her attention before saying, "I know that you're slightly scared."

Here, Even Hermione could keep herself for letting out a snort and rolling her eyes at the understatement he uttered. The actions she did were enough to help her control her actions, fighting back the hysteria that had claimed her moments before. She listened to what he was saying, though, as he hadn't heard the snort she gave, she missed most of what he said. She made herself listen then.

" – and you really do need to keep calm next time, because this was just the first lesson."


Okay, there it is.

Review if you want the story.

Hearts In Strangeness