I've been a fan of Draco and Hermione for quite a while now, and I think it's time I made a story out of it. I plan on actually finishing this fic; the others I've written I've kind of left them hanging, but that's because I made chapters on the spot and didn't really plan out what I wanted the story to be. But this one, I've got a full-length plot down, so no worries.

Things to consider: Set in Half-Blood Prince. Voldemort hasn't recruited Draco yet to kill Dumbledore. It's just plain old smarmy Malfoy here. Some scenes you might recognize from the books/movies, but they're out of order to fit the story.

Rated M for a reason.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs solely to J.K. Rowling, but this plot line belongs to me.

Flying, twittering birds zoomed in the air before darting headfirst into an incredulous red-head. He moved just in time to dodge the suicidal birds, which jammed into the stone wall behind him and became a mass of feathers. His eyes round as saucers, he turned back around to stare at the girl who sent them after him.

Hermione met his eyes for a second and then looked away, and she felt Harry's hand rub her back comfortingly.

"She's mental, she is," Ron said wondrously, and left when Lavender Brown returned to grab his hand, and the pair disappeared.

"Ignore him," Harry said, but Hermione didn't hear. Her head was swimming, her heart was pounding and she felt a mixture of anger, hatred, jealousy, betrayal, and extreme sadness.

"No," she sniffed. Wiping her tears, she looked up at Harry. "No, he's right. He can be with whoever he wants to be. It's not like—it's not like we were together or anything, I never-I never did anything, and you know, it's not like I expected him to be with me—"

"He's a git," Harry said dismissively. "And you're not to blame. I'm not daft, Hermione. I knew you liked him, and I knew he liked you. He's just an ass for going with whatever girl throws herself on him." Harry added, "And you are not like that. You have self-respect."

Hermione smiled. "Maybe a bit too much." She shook her head as she felt fresh tears well in her eyes. "It just hurts."

"I know," Harry said, patting her back again. "I know."


Harry left her after she'd insisted she needed to be alone for some time to clear her head. And she desperately needed it. Not that she wasn't grateful for Harry, he had made her feel better and had been there when she needed comfort the most.

Damn that stupid prick! Hermione thought angrily as she started pacing, preparing to head back to the dormitory. Her sadness had in quick succession turned into absolute fury. How dare he kiss Lavender in front of everyone like that, as if she were some prize? As if he hadn't known Hermione was there too, watching him? For goodness sake, he didn't even like Lavender, barely even spoke to her these past six years at Hogwarts! She knew Ron's existence was driven on basic needs, like when he would stuff his face with food and play Quidditch with Harry instead of studying for his exams. This, as it turned out, was included among his impulses. Very much like a cave man.

Me want snog. Me get now. The corners of Hermione's went up.


Sighing, she wiped her face a few times and attempted to mat down her hair, which surely had to be sticking up from all directions from her upset evening. She had to remain strong. She had to compose herself and not be affected by Ron's superior stupidity. He wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the tears.

She just had to keep telling herself that.

As she began to ascend the grand staircase, laughter erupted from the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Pausing, she left the stairs behind and slowly crept into the hall, yet heard nothing but silence. She shivered and realized how late it actually was. The halls were deserted, and she was way past the curfew. Good thing she was a prefect.

She was about to turn around when a sudden muffled shriek resounded against the walls, and she knew someone was out of bed. First years, she guessed, trying to have a good time. It was without too much surprise that she realized the sounds were coming from the dungeons.

Slytherins, she thought wearily.

"Lumos," she muttered and descended into the dungeons. It grew colder the deeper she went down, and she drew herself together, steadying her wand high in the air. She was in no mood to see amorous underclassmen. It was also possible a few daring students wanted to explore the halls at night, as any first-year secretly craved. Defying the rules was almost instinct at Hogwarts.

She turned a corner and strained her ears, trying to follow any sound she heard. Come on, she thought. At this point, it would be the greatest highlight of her night, catching a Slytherin and deducting points. Hermione normally wasn't this sadistic, but considering the circumstances, for once she'd like to see someone else suffer.

She nearly gave up and turned back when she heard it. A hiss came from the left and she rounded the corner. The torches were very dimly lit on the sides of the dungeon walls, almost as if it were done on purpose. Hermione lowered her wand and crept quietly. Hearing another noise, she walked slowly until the sounds became impossible to miss. Behind a large, winged gargoyle, she saw two figures.

"Oh," a soft, feminine voice sighed, which quickly was muffled into a moan. Straightening, she set her mind on prefect-mode and prepared to charge on them.

She stopped short when she saw silvery-blonde hair, hair she distinctly recognized. She peered behind the gargoyle as heat flooded her cheeks.

The boy's hands would not stop moving. They were everywhere—under the girl's shirt, sliding down the abdomen, thrusting underneath the skirt—and just as his hands wouldn't stop moving, neither would his lips. He was devouring the poor girl before him, and she was taking it all. She squeaked as the arm under her skirt jerked up, and it quickly became a succession of gasps and stifled cries. Hermione watched his arm move rapidly, hidden behind the folds of the girl's skirt. She lifted her leg and wrapped it desperately around his hips, widening herself. He sped up and the girl's hips were started to meet his hand, and his lips traveled to her neck. He bit softly, and that was precisely when the girl began to wail in ecstasy. The boy's movements slowed, and his head turned, grey eyes latching onto Hermione's face.

Hermione felt herself going numb. Finally, she spun around and darted out of the dungeon, up the grand staircase, and to the Gryffindor tower.

"Parsnips," she choked out and the portrait swung open. Stumbling inside, she bounded to the girl's dormitory and went immediately into the bathroom, locked herself in, and reached under her skirt, dropping her panties down. They hadn't touched the floor yet when her fingers began to pump furiously inside her, and Hermione leaned against the wall, hips moving to meet her own strokes. Her thumb brushed against her clit and she shuddered, a low sound escaping her lips. She swirled around it and pushed harder into herself until her fingers were completely soaked. She kept going, and it wasn't until she reached her climax that she broke down crying.


"Are you alright, Hermione?" Parvati Patil asked with a concerned voice. She gazed at Hermione sympathetically as Hermione fiddled with the plate of eggs before her. She smiled.

"I'm alright, honestly," Hermione assured. "I have a few tests today, so I'm a bit nervous."

Parvati nodded and resumed eating. Padma was sitting beside her when she leaned over the table and wrinkled her nose. "God, they're at it again."

Hermione didn't need to turn to see what she was referring to. Ron and Lavender had been attached at the lip for the past half hour. They only broke apart long enough for Ron to stuff his mouth with some toast, and then they resumed.

Parvati nudged Padma hard and she yelped. Hermione smiled. "It's okay. Honestly, it doesn't bother me at all."

Parvati looked at her grimly. "Hermione...it's alright, you don't have to, you know...be brave around us. We saw you leave after the party in the common room yesterday, and I think about the whole dormitory heard you crying last night in the bathroom. If we didn't think you liked him before, it was sort of confirmed last night."

Hermione said nothing as heat crept up her cheeks. If they had known that her crying was partially mixed with a hard, dizzying orgasm, they probably wouldn't think of her the same way. Hermione herself didn't think of herself the same way. She was ashamed of how she'd reacted last night. She had fled from her duties as a prefect and indulged in pleasuring herself with the knowledge that nobody would probably do it for her in the future. Hell, if she couldn't snag Ron, what prospects did she have left?

And when those grey eyes had seen her watching...Hermione didn't want to think about it. She would deny everything. She had never gone down to the dungeons, she had never seen their foreplay, and she definitely had never run away to pleasure herself out of self-pity. No, she'd never do such a degrading thing.

She simply had to avoid a few people for the next year and a half.

She took a bite out of her eggs as her eyes swept across the hall. He probably wouldn't even know it was her; it had been dark and it was hard enough for her to recognize who he was. Of course, they had been smartly concealed behind a giant gargoyle, so naturally she couldn't see very well in the dim lighting. No, most likely he didn't know it was her.

She noticed someone staring. At the Slytherin table, she saw a pair of cold grey eyes watching her from across the Great Hall. She stiffened when she saw the silken blonde hair, expressionless face, and the Slytherin logo on his robes. He began to smile.

Hermione quickly looked away, blood pooling in her cheeks.

Oh yes, he definitely knew.


When Draco Malfoy had been in the dungeons late last night, he felt like hexing himself until he lost all motor function. Victoria Hestley had been flirting with him this past week, and at first Draco had encouraged her demonstrations. Though she herself was not a Slytherin—a Ravenclaw, in fact—Draco tended not to care which House the girl was in, especially when said girl wanted to get in his pants.

And at first he really wanted to shag her—she was bloody beautiful! Victoria was two years below him, but he didn't really care: he was in for the hunt.

But when she had actually started talking to him everyday, telling him about her feelings and her classes and complaining all the time, he began doubting whether the pursuit was worth his time. He loved bedding the ladies, but they were usually not so—annoying.

Victoria had arranged the meeting last night, insisting she wanted to feel "dangerous" and be with him in the open, in the dungeons. He had never been so absurd with his flings and usually kept them in the bedroom like a normal person, but she would have none of it. At that point, he really just wanted to get it over with. As horrid as a person he was, he was never happy with leaving a woman unsatisfied. And he planned on satisfying the Ravenclaw right out of her.

And that was precisely when he saw Granger.

Victoria didn't see her, as he had just made her come viciously on his deft fingers and was temporarily impaired. He had seen something move at the corner of his eyes, and when he turned his head he saw her standing hidden behind the gargoyle, just barely visible. But it was unmistakable that it had been her.

And to his greater surprise, she had fled.

The corners of Draco's lips turned. He'd never expected Granger to be the type to run away from these things, especially anything that involved him. He'd expected her to pounce on the glorious opportunity that'd basically been handed to her on a silver platter. And yet, she had done nothing. She had run away.

And that was exactly what made him so happy.

After she'd fled, Draco had fucked the brains out of the fourth-year in front of him. He honestly didn't think he would; his intentions had been to give her just a taste of what was to come. But she had wanted more. And more. And he shrugged and let his body take over. He had to place a quick Silencing charm around them as Victoria could not control her screams from his vicious minstrations. Afterwards they parted on cordial terms: they both had gotten what they'd wanted from the beginning, and he was certain neither of them wanted to see each other again. It purely for the shag.

But throughout the whole thing, he didn't stop thinking about Granger. How perfect this was. He'd been waiting for a chance to have some fun, and she'd basically begged him to make her life miserable. She was the most infuriating witch he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting at Hogwarts, and the loathing he felt for her was unfathomable. He resented her, wanted her to beg him to spare her, have mercy, forgive her...

Draco sat in the Great Hall, helping himself to some bacon. He watched Granger silently as she ate, making a great effort to smile at the Patil twins. His eyes wandered across the Gryffindor table and saw Saint Potter making googly-eyes at the young Weasley girl, laughing absurdly and spilling pumpkin juice down the front of his robes, making Draco chuckle. It wasn't until his eyes fell on Ron Weasley that his lips turned sour. He was voraciously attacking the lips of Lavender Brown, parting a few times to take a swig of juice and start the process all over again. He shook his head in disgust. Not only was he disgusting when he ate, but his snogging skills were inhumanely sloppy. He wondered how Brown found him so attractive.

His eyes traveled from Ron to Hermione, and he smirked. Or Hermione, for that matter.

Which made things all the more perfect.

Suddenly Hermione looked up and met his eyes. They stared at each other for a while, and images flitted in his mind of the next few months. He began to smile at the thought, and watched as Hermione's cheeks became deeply flushed. She looked away and began to rise, gathering her things hastily and making for the door. Just then it became time to head to the day's classes, but Hermione had disappeared yet again.

Oh yes, Draco Malfoy thought with pride. He was going to have delicious fun this year.


"What we have here is a curious little potion," Professor Slughorn announced with a little jump. He was smiling mischievously. "It is called Felix Felicies or, as some may call it—"

"Liquid Luck," Hermione finished. Professor Slughorn smiled happily. "Yes, Miss Granger! Liquid Luck. Drink this, and all your endeavors will prove successful—that is, until the potion wears off, of course. The student who brews the Draft of Living Death the best shall be rewarded with one vial of Liquid Luck. Turn to page ftwenty-four in your text books, and begin!"

Hermione scrambled to set up her cauldron, rifling through the pages of her advanced potions book until she reached the instructions for brewing the Draft of Living Death. It was essential that she acquired this potion. She knew she would need this, especially after the horrid affair she'd experienced last night. Especially knowing that any moment Draco Malfoy would start tormenting her with the knowledge that she'd seen him pleasuring a girl and had done nothing about it. She would be stripped of her prefect-cy, as would Malfoy, most likely, but she had a feeling he didn't care about his position as prefect for the Slytherin House. And if Malfoy were to acquire the vial...

No, she wouldn't let that happen. Pulling her hair back, Hermione began cutting her ingredients.


Draco nearly laughed at the intensity of Hermione's brewing. She was not holding back, trying with all her might to create the most pristine Draft of Living Death. She most likely knew he was trying his best to acquire the little potion as well. Just thinking about it made his mind buzz. Were he to possess Felix Felicies, the possibilities were endless. He could drink to humiliating Hermione in front of the school, scarring Hermione for the rest of her life, shagging her and then leaving her defiled and unwanted, just as she already was, seeing as her life fucked her on a daily basis.

Shaking his head, he carefully started to cut the sopophorous bean.


After a ten minutes, Hermione could take no more of it.

"Honestly, Ron, what are you doing there!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "These sodding instructions make no sense! And some git wrote all over the book, the edges are frayed and the binding's falling apart—I don't know what I'm doing here!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stared at the tattered text book. He was right—it was in horrendous condition. He and Harry didn't have their own potions books yet, so Slughorn had advised them to take any book they found in the cupboard. Harry had a clean, brand new Advanced Potions book in front of him, whereas Ron wound up with the short stick.

Had she still felt good feelings towards him, she would have offered to trade books. But right now she wanted nothing more than to see his cauldron explode in his face, and for her to receive the vial of Felix Felicies. Right now though, she was hardly near successful. She hadn't gotten past the first instruction yet.

A sopophorous bean zoomed past her and landed on the table that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were working on. She stiffened when she saw a sleek form saunter up to their table.

"Sorry about that," Malfoy drawled, though his expression was more irritated than mocking. He clearly seemed to be having just as much trouble brewing the potion as everyone else, and his hair seemed a bit disheveled. He leaned against the table slightly, his potions book in one hand and the other outstretched towards the sopophorous bean. "Mind if I have my bean back."

Ron picked it up and inspected it for a second. "Looks like you haven't been able to cut it either."

"The fucking thing won't break," Malfoy said irritatedly. "I don't plan to win this little challenge." Hermione smiled faintly and then quickly made herself expressionless, focusing on her cauldron, but Draco hadn't missed it.

"Same," Ron admitted. "This stupid book's all messed up." Hermione looked up to gape at the pair. Why were they talking as if they didn't want to rip each other's guts apart? Why were they holding a conversation that didn't end in "Weaselby" or "twat"? What the hell was going on?

Malfoy inspected it and shrugged. "Do you want to trade?"

Hermione was floored. Draco couldn't help but feel smug inside as he saw Hermione's mouth drop open even more. He wasn't lying—he truly did not expect to win this. Making the Draft of Living Death proved to be far more difficult than he thought, and his hopes in potions were completely erased. It made no difference to him if he had a new book or the piece of garbage Weasley was holding.

"Are you serious?" Ron eyed him suspiciously, and Harry joined him. He wasn't looking too happy either, having his best friend speaking to the one person he truly despised at Hogwarts.

Malfoy nodded. "It makes no difference to me. I'm going to fail either way."

With shock from both Harry and Hermione, the pair watched Ron and Malfoy exchange books. Ron dropped the sopophorous bean in Malfoy's hand, and Malfoy winked, then walked back to his station. Ron turned around to see Harry and Hermione glaring at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry hissed. "He probably jinxed his book so that anyone who isn't him gets warts when trying to read it."

"I feel fine," Ron answered as he began to sift through the pages. "Though I'm quite a bit surprised too. At least now I don't have to order a new potions book. Mum and Dad are having enough trouble as is." His eyes flickered to Hermione. Glancing away, she managed to get a drop of liquid from the bean and quickly trickled it into her cauldron. She didn't dare speak to Malfoy the entire time he was at their table. Any normal circumstance and she would've told him to sod off. But now...

"How's your potion coming, Hermione?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Hermione looked up and was taken aback to see Ron smiling. It was then she noticed he wasn't smiling at her but at Lavender, who was behind Hermione across the room. Her face blank, Hermione threw in the Valerian roots. The cauldron erupted in flames and the smile disappeared from Ron's face as he stepped back, the flames quickly simmering into a softly smoking brew. Hermione smiled. "It's perfect."


Draco could not believe his luck. The moment he started using Weasley's tattered potions book, he began to take note of the scribblings the previous owner made all along the margins. They were guidelines to make the potion easier to replicate. Weasley clearly didn't have the brain capacity to follow these, more less be capable reading any instruction. But seeing as Malfoy already assumed he would fail, he decided to spice things up a bit and see what Mr. Half-Blood had in store for him, or so he called himself on the inside cover of the book.

It was a good thing he decided to take that route, because he was almost certain he had created the best potion of his life.

"Time's up everybody, let me see your potions!" Professor Slughorn boomed. He began walking around the room, nodding approvingly for some and saying "Better luck next time, my dear" to everyone else. He reached Hermione's cauldron and smiled. "Very good, very good effort here, Miss Granger," Slughorn remarked with a pat on her back. Malfoy couldn't help but notice the small satisfaction in Hermione's expression, but in the process of making her potion she had gone from frizzy to completely frazzled. Her hair was sticking up from all ends as if she had run her hands through them dozens of times. No matter, she had the smug appearance of winning this challenge. Her eyes briefly flickered to his, as if saying, I won.

Then Slughorn arrived at his cauldron. It was a smooth, clear mixture, and Slughorn looked surprised. "This looks absolutely remarkable, Mr. Malfoy! Let me just..." Slughorn dropped a leaf inside the liquid. It quickly burned into nothing. "Why—it is perfect!" he heard a chorus of groans around him, and he looked at Hermione. She was dumbstruck. He tore his gaze from her when Professor Slughorn took him by the hand. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe you just won yourself your very own vial of Liquid Luck!"

The classroom dully clapped as he held the tiny vile in his smooth hands. Harry didn't bother lifting his hands, and Ron looked slightly sour. Malfoy smiled and looked around the classroom. His eyes landed on Granger, who looked positively livid, and he did what he knew would infuriate her the most.

He winked, and tapped the glass bottle with a smile.


Hermione brustled past the other students, determined to go back to the common room as fast as she could. Images of what had just happened flashed in her mind.

Hermione was cleaning up her work station and gathering the spare ingredients into separate vials. Harry was waiting for her but she insisted he go on without her, for she always took a copious amount of time making sure everything was in order.

"Miss Granger, you will to come to my Christmas party tomorrow evening, right?" Professor Slughorn reminded her lightly. She widened her eyes. She'd completely forgotten.

"Why y-yes, of course, Professor," she smiled assuredly, and Slughorn positively glowed.

"Oh it will be just spectacular! Never will there have been such a grand function at Hogwarts since the first Tri-Wizard tournament! I will see you there, then, Miss Granger!"

Hermione smiled, but it quickly faded when she remembered she didn't have a date whatsoever. She thought hard. She glared at Ron, who was still gathering his things with Lavender by his side. Perhaps she would take Cormac McClaggen. That would piss him off like nothing else.

She was emptying her cauldron when she heard a soft voice whisper, "But I thought you'd be ready for that? You're so wonderful, I-I just assumed you'd already, you know..."

"Oh, well, yeah, of course I'm ready, I just don't think you are for that kind of—"

"Oh but I am, Won-Won," the hushed voice whispered fervently. "I love spending time with you."

"Snogging isn't really spending time, I think..."

"Don't worry about these things so much. It's just, you're so wonderful, Ron. Truly, you are. I...I would do anything for you."

Hermione heard a rakish chuckle. "Well, when you put it that way...yeah I guess, why not?"

She'd heard enough. Slamming her books into her bag, she gave a lasting glare at the duo who were a few stations in back of her, and sped out of the room.

"Do you think she heard us?" Ron said with a frown, guilt hitting his stomach.

"Let's not think about that," she teased, and lurched up to bring her lips to his, and Ron forgot all about Hermione storming off.

"Screw you," she said to herself as she climbed up the staircase. "Screw you, screw you, you selfish, disgusting bastard—"

"I hope that's not me you're talking about," a lazy voice drawled behind her. She turned to see Malfoy easily falling in step with her. "Had a fun day in potions, Mudblood?"

"Get out of my face," she muttered, and rounded a corner.

"Ho, ho, not so fast there, Granger, I just want to talk," Malfoy caught her arm and they stood beside a wall. She jerked her arm furiously.

"Let go before I hex you."

"If you run away I will grab you again," he warned darkly, then released her arm. She lurched forward and tried to escape but he caught her wrist and pushed her into the wall. "Ah, ah, see, now I can't trust you. Shame, now I have to hold on to your filthy clothes, I feel my hand getting dirtier already—"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione hissed. He smirked.

"Nothing, just an answer to a tiny little question." He smiled inwardly when he felt her pulse increase from his grip on her wrist. She said nothing.

"What I'm curious about, and correct me if I'm wrong," Malfoy began, "I'd like to know why you were watching me fuck another student last night and then ran away."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Granger, we're both grown adults here," Malfoy said.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you answer my question."

A hard slap forced his face to the side, but it only made him grip onto her wrist tighter, snatching her other hand in his free on. He pulled her into a deserted hall as she tried to wriggle free from him, and he pushed her against the cold wall. Hermione shivered and inhaled deeply when he held her tightly against the wall using not just his hand but his body as well. She hissed a breath in and turned her head, for he was dangerously close to her. Her movements ceased when he pushed her further against the wall, and she stilled.

"Watch yourself, Granger," Malfoy growled. Hermione turned her head to glare up at him. He was almost a head taller than her. She wriggled again and he sang his hips against hers, and she stilled again, a gasp erupting from her throat.

"Get. Off." she choked out.

"You need to remember one thing about me, Granger," Draco said in a low, threatening voice. "I get what I want. Always. I don't care about anyone else but me. I won't go out of my way to harm you unless you directly affect me." Which she had done already, Malfoy thought bitterly, reflecting on the past six years. Vengeance was always sweetest when taken with pride.

"Now I'm asking you a simple question, and I would answer it if I were you."

Hermione felt nothing less than pure loathing for the hideous creature looming above her. He was ruthless, disgusting, horribly self-centered, and would probably do anything to make others feel worthless.

An idea sparked in her head.

"Will you come to Slughorn's Christmas Party tomorrow with me?" Hermione blurted.

AN: Reviews are most welcome! Please disregard any grammatical errors-I've stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish this!