A/N: Never have I wanted my copy of one of the books more than when I wrote this oneshot. But they're at home and I'm not, so you'll have to excuse any little discrepancies in the timeline, etc.

Also, just so you know, it took wine and a promise to myself that I was NEVER going to post this just so I could write some of the scenes in this. I know I've used the M rating before and it wasn't really M, but this time it is, lemon and all (blame foreva2000, she told me to write smut). So read at your own risk and such...


"This is utter nonsense!" Hermione grumbled, flipping through the article Rita Skeeter had written about the supposed relationship between her and Harry. As if poor Harry didn't have enough to worry about without the horrid things Skeeter wrote. Her lies polluted the paper and the small minds who believed her every word.

Harry and Ron nodded their agreement, looking at the paper with twin expressions of disgust.

All three of them missed the pair of grey eyes on the opposite side of the Great Hall peeking at Hermione over the top of another copy of the paper.

Hermione was on edge. On top of the things the horrible Skeeter woman was printing about her and Harry in the paper, she had to find a way to help poor Harry breathe under water. They were fourth years! She may have been the best in their year, but even Hermione had her limits.

She'd been in the library long past closing as a result of her frantic search. It was practically midnight and almost everyone in the castle was asleep. In only a few days, Harry was going to have to face the second task and he was completely unprepared. The dragon had been bad enough, Hermione couldn't imagine what horrors her friend would have to face next.

Her nose was buried in a book as Hermione tried to do some more frantic research on the walk back to her common room. There just wasn't time for her to waste on things like transit when she could be reading while she walked. So engrossed was she in her book, Hermione didn't notice the dark figure lurking behind a suit of armour as she passed.

As she tried to turn the page, he struck, knocking the book right out of her hand and shoving her to the hard stone floor.

Hermione let out a pained grunt when her head struck the hard ground. She landed flat on her back, staring up at her attacker.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" she demanded, trying to hide the tremor in her voice behind her anger. She subtly reached for her wand, but he saw and kicked it out of her reach. Her only hope of escape clattered against the far wall, well out of her reach.

"I'm finally putting Potter in his place," he answered, his tone making Hermione go cold. She had a feeling that whatever was going to come next wasn't something she was going to enjoy.

Painfully, she tried to sit up, wincing when the world started spinning as she lifted herself even a little bit from the floor. She must have hit her head harder than she'd thought if she was so dizzy.

Malfoy, seeing that she was going to get to her feet, leapt at her. He pushed her shoulders back onto the floor and sat on the tops of her thighs, pinning her there.

Hermione's heart kicked up a notch as her mind came up with horrifying scenarios. She had no doubt that Malfoy's evil Slytherin brain was capable of producing multiple revolting plans. He was a blood supremacist with Death Eater aspirations, he wouldn't do anything that would involve excessive touching, would he?

No, he considered Hermione dirty and inferior.

"How do you plan on making him pay?" she demanded, still trying to keep her brave facade in place. Malfoy's bark was worse than his bite; he was pretty much harmless without his father there to egg him on – at least that's what she tried to tell herself.

The smirk he gave her wasn't encouraging in the least. "I'm going to defile his precious Mudblood girlfriend."

He leaned down and covered her lips with his before Hermione could even voice how idiotic Malfoy was being. Harry wasn't interested in her Romantically. Not in the least! She tried to tell him so, but Malfoy's mouth was in the way of her words.

Hermione spent what felt like an eternity trying to escape the foreign pressure of another's lips against hers. She had always imagined her first kiss as something gentle and loving, not the bruising, borderline painful event she was experiencing.

She tried to beat at him with her fists, but the blows were ineffective. He grabbed her hands and yanked them over her head, where he pinned them there with only one of his hands.

The most horrifying thing about the entire ordeal was that she found herself enjoying it. Some deeply buried part of her seemed to like being so thoroughly dominated. She tried to tell herself that the slimy Slytherin with his tongue down her throat was repulsive and horrible, but she was enjoying his attentions.

At first, Hermione wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with herself. However, Malfoy was attempting to force himself on her; it wasn't like he was going to leave if she did something wrong. Curiosity piqued, Hermione decided to treat it as practice for when Ron finally pulled his head out of his arse and asked her on a date. At least then she could know what she was doing.

Forcing herself not to over-think it, she tangled her tongue around his and arched her body up against him.

Oh. It felt a whole lot better when she moved with him. A little moan vibrated from her throat.

He pulled away almost immediately, looking disgruntled. "You're supposed to fight me and cry and scream. Why are you participating?"

"Can't get into it what the other party isn't terrified out of her wits, Malfoy?" she mocked. Hermione was suddenly a whole lot less intimidated by him. He was the same Malfoy that she had put in his place with a slap, not someone to fear.

Anger darkening his eyes, Malfoy leaned down again and slammed his lips against hers, trying to punish her with the ferocity of his kiss.

While she didn't like that the bump on her head was pressed into the floor, Hermione once again responded, this time more to anger Malfoy than because she wanted to.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly when he pulled away once more and gave her that same disgruntled look.

"I told you," Malfoy snapped, but he pulled back so he was sitting on her upper thighs again. "I'm teaching Potter a lesson."

Hands now free, Hermione brought them behind her head to gently prod at the lump there. She wanted to make sure she wasn't bleeding.

"Malfoy, the paper is lying. I'm not dating Harry; I don't even like him that way."

His pale eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. She knew she wasn't as scared as she should be, but what was Malfoy going to do, kiss her again? That had already happened and it wasn't horrible. She actually kind of liked it. Her eyes were drawn to his lips against her will as she wondered if it would happen again.

"That barnacle of yours Parkinson has been feeding Skeeter lies all year. Why would you believe anything that's in the paper?"

He snickered even as his eyes darkened with turmoil. "Barnacle is an apt description."

"Malfoy," Hermione said hesitantly, "You're not this person."

"What are you talking about?" he spat.

"You're a jerk, but I don't believe that you're horrible enough to try and rape someone in a corridor just to get back at a schoolyard rival. You warned me at the Quidditch cup this summer because you didn't want this sort of thing to happen."

He jumped off of her and scuttled to the other side of the corridor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He fled before Hermione could comment further, leaving here there to pull herself up from the floor. Hermione grabbed her wand and shuffled off to the Hospital Wing to get what was most likely a concussion looked at.

Hermione tightened her hold on Krum's arm and reminded herself to keep her head up. It was a little insulting that everyone kept staring and giving her those puzzled looks as they tried to figure out her identity. She'd even heard a few people whisper her name disbelievingly and then immediately dismiss the idea that the bookworm they'd come to know so well could possibly look even remotely pretty.

Ron especially had been horrible about the whole thing. Just because she didn't bother with her appearance most of the time didn't mean she wasn't female. It served him right that he looked miserable over in the corner with Harry.

"I'm going to go powder my nose," Hermione said to her date, excusing herself. Viktor was nice and all, but he did a lot of staring. No conversation, mostly just the staring. It was starting to make her a little uncomfortable.

She was examining herself in the bathroom mirror, trying to smooth the little flyaways that no amount of hair potion could suppress, when the door opened and the last person she would ever have expected entered the room.

"Malfoy," Hermione yelped. "What are you doing in here? This is the girl's bathroom."

His eyes raked over her, his dark expression making her heart speed up – but not from fear. Unwillingly, her body was reacting to the memory of that kiss in the corridor. The kiss, she reminded herself, that she hadn't wanted.

She watched him approach her in the mirror.

His eyes were practically glowing with desire as he stalked towards her, not stopping until his chest was flush against her back and he had a hand on either side of her, keeping her trapped between the counter and his body.

"What are you doing?" she demanded again, slightly higher in pitch this time. It was taking more effort than she'd thought it would to ignore his effect on her. With him pressed so close, surrounding her in his scent and warmth, he was hard to ignore the desire to just give in to her body and jump him.

Malfoy brushed her hair to the side and ran his lips down her neck. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'm betting it's going to be very wrong yet feel very good at the same time."

Shivering in pleasure, Hermione tangled her hands in his hair to pull him closer, eliciting a similar response from him. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

What was it about the one boy who was supposed to be her enemy that always managed to set her blood boiling so?

Realizing what she was doing, Hermione shoved him away. She was only successful because he hadn't been expecting it. The blond was so much bigger up close than he seemed far away and flanked by his giant goons. Hermione already knew from experience that he could easily overpower her.

"What the hell?" he demanded, obviously not used to being refused in anything.

"Are you still teaching Harry a lesson?"

She finally turned to face him, wanting to see his eyes when he answered. She'd seen him lie convincingly with his words more than once, it was his eyes that always seemed to betray him; they were surprisingly expressive for someone always trying to maintain an unaffected facade.

"No," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "In the process of trying to teach him a lesson, it seems that I've learned something."

"What would that be?" Hermione watched him intently, not used to seeing Malfoy so unsure of himself.

"I can't seem to stay away from you," he said, suddenly dragging his wandering stare up to her eyes, piercing her with their intensity. He was telling the truth.

Just in case he was lying, Hermione spent an extra moment examining him. The only thing that changed about his sincere expression was an increase of the lust in his eyes as he continued to burn her with those grey irises of his.

Hermione glanced down to see that he'd somehow managed to slip the strap off of one of her shoulders and one of her breasts was very nearly exposed. Ah, that explained his look.

Do you really want to give the person who tried to take advantage of you in the corridors a second go? A little voice in her head asked.

Yes was her immediate and fervent response. Not liking this power he seemed to have over her, Hermione sought to bring the situation back under her control.

"Before this goes any farther," Hermione said sternly, "I need to know something: What would have happened if I had struggled like you expected?"

They both knew what she was really asking; would he have raped her in a pathetic attempt to one up Harry.

"I wouldn't have..." he trailed off and cleared his throat, "You know. The plan was only to scare you a little and have it get back to Potter."

As far as she could tell, he was still being completely truthful with her.

"That was a horrible thing to do," she scolded even as she advanced on him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"This can't get out," Malfoy warned, his head leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

"I don't want people to know about this any more than you do." She grabbed the back of his head and mashed her lips again his, giving him some of the same treatment that he'd been showing her in their previous intimate interactions.

Malfoy responded by tugging on her bun until it came unwound. He grunted in displeasure and pulled away.

"What?" Hermione demanded.

"Your hair is sticky," he complained, looking at the hair potion residue on his hands.

Hermione showed him her hands, the same potion residue clinging to her fingers. "So is yours."

He lowered a hand to his pocket and grabbed his wand, Scorgifying both their hands and all of the product in their hair.

Hermione's curls immediately made a reappearance, springing up in their usual unruly mess. Malfoy's hair however, just fell from its slicked back state to cover his eyes.

Personally, Hermione thought it looked very dashing. She was just about to tell him so when he threaded his fingers once again in her hair and tilted her head up to kiss her once more, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

Once again she found herself experiencing those sparks of enjoyment that she'd felt before. She should hate Malfoy, so why did she enjoy it so much when he touched her?

He walked her backwards until her bottom hit the counter and then lifted her up onto the hard surface. Hermione winced as a puddle of water that had been on the counter soaked into her dress and chilled a patch of her skin, but Malfoy quickly distracted her from the minuscule discomfort by kissing her once more, letting his hands wander.

Her heart started beating even harder and she took quick sips of air as a jolt of white-hot electricity tugged somewhere behind her bellybutton and down to her centre. She was throbbing and overheated and needed something.

Wiggling in discomfort at the strange new sensation, Hermione reached for Malfoy as he nudged her knees apart, dragging his hands down her legs until they found the hem of her dress. He brought his hands back up her legs, goose bumps following in their wake. Palms against her skin, he slid her dress up until it pooled by her hips and then pulled her against his equally excited body.

When he rolled his hips, rubbing his hard length against her in just the right way, Hermione gasped.

"Do that again," she ordered, wrapping her legs around him so she could push herself even closer.

He obeyed, smirking slightly.

Starting to get the hang of the moments, Hermione enthusiastically responded. She always had been a fast learner.

When she tipped her head back, Malfoy immediately descended on her neck, sucking until he found all the places that made her whimper and squirm underneath him.

A jingling and the absence of his hands on her person made her tilt her head forwards and look at him questioningly. He was unbuckling his belt.

Hypnotised, Hermione watched for a moment as those long, pale fingers of his struggled with the leather of his belt.

Shouldn't she have more objections to what was about to happen? Her mind was clouded with lustful thoughts and want. She wasn't feeling the doubts she knew should be there and couldn't seem to muster any concern over this worrying fact.

Finally, Malfoy managed to fumble off his belt and then his pants before stepping back into his place between her knees, right where Hermione wanted him.

One of his hands cupped her breast, teasing one peak and then its twin as his other hand slid down her stomach to the apex between her thighs. Pinching a turgid nipple, he used it as a distraction so he could slip a finger under the barrier of her knickers.

Hermione actually yelped when his finger ran over the bundle of nerves hidden between her legs.

Refusing to just melt because of the building pressure he was creating with his persistent rubbing, Hermione reached towards the blond and began unbuttoning his shirt. It wasn't fair that he was touching her so intimately and she didn't even get to see a little skin.

Malfoy actually chuckled at her eagerness to touch him, the sound sending another jolt between Hermione's legs. Watching her intently, he slipped a finger inside her.

For a moment, all she could do was breathe heavily and stare into the storm of desire in his eyes. It was his bloody self-satisfied smirk that spurred her into action.

Not to be outdone, she flattened her palms against his pectorals, feeling his accelerated heart rate before she dragged her nails down his torso, stopping just shy of the band of his boxers. She watched, transfixed as his muscles tensed beneath her hands and he groaned quietly.

"You don't want to play that game with me, Granger. I guarantee you'll lose," he warned, his voice low and the pace of his fingers increasing.

The sound of his voice alone was enough to make Hermione's heart pound even more furiously against her chest and the desire darkening her cheeks to deepen. When combined with the increased friction he was providing, she was lost. Arching her hips to get them closer to his hand, she moaned loudly as her body clenched around his invading fingers.

Malfoy pressed his mouth over hers, swallowing her sounds so they wouldn't be discovered.

When she came down from the heights of her pleasure, Hermione found that somehow Malfoy's boxers had moved down to join his pants around his ankles.

She stared at him in all his erect glory, the only thing going through her mind was "That's not going to fit."

Malfoy didn't seem to share her concerns. He shuffled around under her dress until he had a hold of her knickers and then slid them off of her. Cheekily, he smirked at her as he stuffed them in a pocket of his sagging pants.

"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked. She frowned when she found her voice to be low and breathy.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" He wasn't looking at her eyes. Instead, he was visually devouring the spot he had recently revealed.

Her pulse started to pick up again at just his hungry expression. Malfoy looked liable to devour someone, and it was her he was looking at.

"You would if you were a kind, caring gentleman, but I'm under so such illusions," she said. Grabbing his shoulders, Hermione pulled him to her once again.

She'd had to check and make sure that he was in his right mind, and his answer had been all the reassurance she'd needed. He was still the conceited git she knew him to be; she had to assume that meant he was in his right mind. There certainly hadn't seemed to be any doubt in his voice or his eyes.

When she felt his tip against her, she arched her hips helpfully, wanting to be as close to him as physically possible; she wanted him inside of her.

"Contraceptive!" she gasped just as she felt his body tense to thrust.

"Malfoys can't have illegitimate children," he grunted. "Ensures the succession."

With that, he continued his earlier action and thrust inside of her.

Hermione's mouth fell open in completely soundless gasp. Her entire body tense, she stayed perfectly still, hoping the pain of her broken hymen would recede quickly.

Malfoy started moving before she was ready, but he slid a hand down her abdomen to play with that magic little bundle of nerves once more. It wasn't long before she was grinding against him and groaning, trying to increase the already near-overwhelming friction.

Clinging to him, Hermione watched as the flush smudged across Malfoy's cheeks darkened and spread down his neck and over his chest.

Before she'd once again reached her peak, Malfoy's groaned exhalation and a burst of warmth deep inside her signified that her partner had reached completion. He roughly fondled her for a few more passes until she joined him in his state of sated exhaustion.

She continued to cling to him as they both tried to regain their normal breathing rhythms.

"Hermy-own-ninny," Viktor called through the door, making them both start. However, they were too tired to jump apart. "They are sending everyone back to their rooms. The punch vos spiked vith an inhibition blocking potion. Good thing you haf been in the bathroom, yes?"

Still panting, Hermione rested her forehead against Malfoy's slick shoulder. A little late for that, she thought.

"Hermy-own-ninny?" Viktor called again.

"Coming," she called, pushing Malfoy away from her so she could right herself.

"You already did that," Malfoy muttered as he pulled up his pants.

Hermione glanced into the mirror. Her hair was everywhere, her eyes were sparking, and her cheeks were flushed. Combined with the fact that the room smelled of sweat and their combined arousal, Krum would have no trouble figuring out what had transpired if he entered.

She frantically tried to fix her hair and dress as Malfoy chuckled, too quietly for Viktor to hear from the other side of the thick door.

"It's a lost cause, Granger."

Hermione shot him a glare in the mirror, but it wasn't because she was upset with him, it was more because she knew that he was right. A few quick glamour charms later and she was almost presentable. Krum wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; she could only hope that he wouldn't notice her state when she said her goodbyes. She could probably avoid everyone else as she snuck back to her room.

It wasn't until she was in her bed, having successfully convinced everyone that she was looking a little peaky because she'd had a little too much spiked punch that she remembered her knickers were in the possession of Draco Malfoy.

Like Hermione did with most things that involved messy emotions, she avoided Malfoy. This method had worked for a while, but all of that careful avoidance had come crashing down when he grabbed from a dark corner under the Quidditch stands as she was on her way to her seat. Harry was due to start the final task in only minutes and she was beside herself with worry.

Hermione struggled against the restraining arm around her waist, unable to scream for help because of the hand pressed tightly against her mouth.

"Granger, I know we're not speaking to each other, but the cup is a portkey," he said quickly, releasing her.

Hermione immediately stumbled a few steps away before whipping around to face him. She tipped her head to the side and examined him closely. He appeared to be telling the truth.

She wasn't worried about anyone seeing them together, they were safely shielded from prying eyes by the spectator stands, but Hermione still wasn't thrilled about being in an enclose space with Malfoy. While no one else seemed to know that she'd shagged Malfoy, which meant that he'd kept his mouth shut despite the knickers he had as proof, Hermione still wasn't entirely sure he was trustworthy.

His expression was earnest and he seemed genuinely agitated about his news. Hermione just couldn't seem to make sense of his urgency.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

"The cup," he snapped, "At the end of the maze. It's a portkey. He's back – the Dark Lord - and he wants Potter. You can't let this happen; he can't come back to power."

Hermione blinked a few times, letting the new information wash over her. It only took her a split second to come to a decision. She was poised to bolt towards the teachers and warn them when Dumbledore's voice boomed out over the stands, announcing the entrance of the first contestant.

She tried to fight her way through the crowds, but she wasn't strong or large enough. The hundreds of people there blocked her from getting to the front. Hermione suspected that Dumbledore may have put a spell on the stands to keep friends and family away from the champions until they had entered the maze. He probably didn't want a repeat of the incident with Skeeter in the tent before the first task.

When the entrance of the last contestant was announced, she sagged in defeat. Hermione knew that nothing from the outside could get one of those contestants out of the maze, certainly not the word of a fourth year saying that she thought the trophy at the end was a trap. She wasn't even sure why she believed Malfoy and didn't have a reason why anyone else should.

Hermione briefly tried begging McGonagall to call off the task, but all that got her was a calming draught and an order to take a seat in the stands or go back to her room. Implied in McGonagall's actions was that Hermione should be quiet and trust that the adults had everything under control.

If only that were true.

The crowd went completely silent when Harry and Cedric disappeared, having touched the cup at the exact same time. Hermione found herself unable to look away, not from the empty space on the field that held everyone else's attention, but at the pair of grey eyes off in the stands. His gaze was full of the dread she was feeling.

Nothing would be the same again.

On the train home that year, Hermione bumped into someone and nearly fell over.

"Careful, Granger," Malfoy said, actually reaching out a hand and steadying her. He was able to do this because there was no one around to witness his act of kindness towards a Muggleborn.

Hermione took advantage of the complete lack of onlookers to ask something that had been bothering her since that night in the bathroom.

"Malfoy, did you actually drink any of the punch?" she asked slowly, not sure she wanted the answer.

He smirked at her. "Nope, did you?"

"No," she said, blushing and looking away from him.

Malfoy's smirk widened. "See you next year, Granger."

He put his hands on her hips and shuffled her to the side, brushing past her as he continued towards the Slytherin car.

Hermione pursed her lips as she watched him walk away; she'd forgotten to ask how he'd known about the cup. She could only assume that his father had told him.

Next year was certainly going to be different.

A/N 2: There. You've read it. Now we must never speak of this again (unless you want to review, I'd love to hear what you think). I've fiddled with the idea about doing a chapter for fifth and then sixth year (I'm not sure I'd be able to write any more lemons though)... Thoughts?

It actually didn't occur to me until this was written that they were only 14 (Hermione's 15) in this story because it would have had to take place in fourth year. I always picture them closer to my age. Anyway, it seemed like a waste (of wine) to scrap it... so I posted. I hope I haven't offended anyone. *hides*