Love Fated

[Erin burns]

Chapter One

The scarlet Hogwarts Express gleamed and hissed in the station. Students clambered about saying goodbye to their families, while loading their trunks and other various items onto the train. Friends, that had been separated for months, excitedly reunited, catching up the events of the summer. In the midst of the chaos stood a pale, blond haired, young man who was surveying the familiar scene.

Draco Malfoy was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As he stood watching the hustle and bustle, his mind wandered over the past six years. So much had happened, the return of You Know Who and his Deatheaters, the arrest, imprisonment and escape of his father and the awakening of his mother.

The time away from his father had given Draco the chance to look beyond the propaganda that had been drummed into his head all his life. He concluded that his father’s way of thinking was flawed. Blood had nothing to do with a witch or wizard’s magical ability. After all, was he not a pureblood, yet his grades were second to a muggleborn? While he was not shouting his allegiance to Dumbledore and company, Draco knew that he could never follow a maniac that wanted to destroy the world just because he hated whom his father was.

Narcissa Malfoy had also shifted her way of thinking while Lucius was in prison. She made it clear to her son that he was to choose his own path in life. Subsequently, she had put her foot down with Lucius and had given him an ultimatum--his family or his lord. Much to Draco’s chagrin, Lucius chose his lord.

Draco’s thoughts were interrupted by feminine giggling behind him. He turned to identify the source and was greeted by three third year Ravenclaws. He flashed his infamous smirk and rolled his eyes as they rushed away blushing.

He had always been popular with the girls. With his platinum blonde hair, athletic, yet lithe body and stormy gray eyes, females seemed to be magnetically drawn to him. Most people credited his popularity to his good looks, money and the Malfoy name. However, it was more than that. Draco Malfoy was part veela.

It wasn’t until he was fifteen that his father had told him what he was. He quickly learned that he had control over females. They would stare at him constantly and hang on his every word no matter what he was talking about. A whisper in the ear, a flash of his smile and they were his. Yet, that was not the whole story. Shortly before Lucius’ escape in sixth year, Draco went to see his father at Azkaban.

“Draco, there is something I must tell you,” said his father in a sandy voice. The prison was so damp and dark that it created an illness all its own among the inmates.

“As I told you when you were younger, every other generation a part veela is born into the Malfoy family. My father was one and now you have been fated as one. How much do you know about veelas?”

“Well,” said Draco shifting in an effort to remove the chill from his body, “I know that they are extremely attractive to the opposite sex, irresistible. All veelas have mates. They must find their mate or they will die. A veela that is lucky enough to find its mate can love nor desire any other.”

“Very good, that is precisely what I wanted to discuss with you. It would seem that you have enough veela in your blood to share some of the major characteristics, including having a mate,” stated Lucius. Draco looked up at his father in shock.

“Unlike full veelas, you will not die if you do not find your mate. However, you will live a life of despair and no woman will ever satisfy you. Secondly, unlike the full veela, you will not die shortly after your mate’s death. Instead, you will live with the heartbreak and will overtime die of said heartbreak.”

Draco continued to stare at his father in disbelief. He had just come to the point where he was making his own decisions without Lucius dictating his every move. Now he was being informed that he had no control over his love life. d**n the Malfoy blood!

“Like full veelas, you will be very, shall we say, ‘protective’ of your mate,” said Lucius crossing his legs at his ankles before continuing. “Upon your birthday, you will be of age and your soul will begin to search for its mate.”

Draco quickly rose from his chair and began to pace the floor. His anger was visible on his face. With his fist tightly balled and he turned his back to his father.

“How will I be able to find her?” Draco questioned with a defeated sigh.

“Your senses will be heightened to her. Meaning you will be able to feel and smell her before she is near. Actually, her smell is the first thing that you will notice. However, I have to warn you it will not be easy to win her,” his father said.

“Why is that? I am part veela, all I have to do is whisper to her and she will be mine,” huffed the young wizard arrogantly.

“You find that not to be the case with your mate. Unlike others, she is immune to the hypnotic sound of your voice. As your mate, she must give herself mind, body and soul.”

“But what if she doesn’t? I am doomed to live a miserable life then, right?” snapped Draco.

“Do not worry. She will give herself, it is fated. She is just going to be a little resistant. It is fate’s way of making sure you will appreciate her,” said Lucius as he rose to end their visit. “In my study are many books on veelas and their mates. They will answer any questions you may have.”

That was the last time Draco saw his father.


Well? What do you think?

[Valida Jameson]

Awww...I'd be Draco's mate. lol

[Erin burns]

lol Here's the next chapter.

Chapter Two

Hermione Granger stood near the Hogwarts Express watching first years board the train. Many of them had looks of trepidation on their faces. It reminded her of her first year. She had always known that there was something special about her, but magic was not what came to mind. Until she had received her letter, she never even knew that witches and wizards even existed. Always one to enjoy a challenge, she fully jumped into a world she never knew, regardless of the fear that she felt in the pit of her stomach.

She soon found out that entering into an unknown world was not her greatest challenge. It was overcoming stereotypes that were centuries old. As a muggleborn witch, Hermione had to struggle extra hard to prove that she belonged in this world.

The golden badge she held in her hand twinkled when it caught the light. Head Girl. It meant that she was the best in her class. Many people thought that it was easy for her to get where she was because she was smart. However, no one knew of the near breakdown that she would experience every summer when school was out. How she would lie in her bed for days crying until she was physically sick. She practically killed herself every year to be the best, yet it was never enough for them.

She often wondered how many others in her school were muggleborns or had one muggle parent. It was never talked about because of them. Once students stepped thorough that magical barrier any thought of sharing a muggle background was squashed immediately.

Even she had succumbed to the pressure. Rarely did one find Hermione Granger, perfect Gryffindor, discussing or in possession of anything from the muggle world. It was as if she ceased being anything muggle once in the wizarding world. All that mattered was that she proved she was the perfect witch.

This year is going to be different, she thought as her eyes glistened with fire. This was her last year and she intended to embrace who she was, including her feminine side. Up until this year, she had worried so much about proving others wrong and being perfect, that she forgot to revel in the fact that she was a female. Not this year though. This year Plain-Jane-Hermione would disappear. It didn’t matter what others thought any more. As long as she was happy with herself and content in whom she was and where she belonged, all others could get stuffed!

“Oi, ‘Mione!” a deep voice called. Hermione turned to see her three best friends headed her way.

During first year, she had been teased, then rescued and finally became friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. In her second year, Ron’s sister Ginny came to Hogwarts and the two girls quickly became friends. Above everything else in wizarding world, she valued the friendship of these three people the most.

“Hi, Ron,” she said giving her friend a tight squeeze in greeting. She and Ron had tried, unsuccessfully, to date each other in their sixth year, but soon realized that they felt nothing more than sibling love for each other. As she hugged him, a dark haired wizard with green eyes to die for stood off to the side smiling. It was Harry with Ginny neatly tucked under his arm.

“Oh Ginny! I’m so happy for you,” she crooned as she ran over to embrace the redhead female.

“What about me?” asked the tall, bespectacled wizard holding Ginny.

“Oh please, Harry!” Hermione said placing her hand on her hip. “It’s about time you pulled your head out of your arse.”

“Hermione!” chorused three voices.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“You cursed, that’s what,” said the lanky, redhead wizard.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Ron,” she sighed waving him off and rolling her eyes.

As the guys loaded their stuff onto the train, the girls chatted. While Hermione wanted all the details on Ginny’s relationship with Harry, the redhead witch was more enamored with her friend’s new look.

“That outfit is positively smashing on you, but when did you even care about what you looked like,” said Ginny glancing over the brunette’s outfit.

Under the robes that they were required to wear, it was hard see any figure on anybody. However, Hermione’s soft, hourglass figure was clearly seen in the outfit she was wearing. She was wearing boot cut khakis that caressed her bum with a lovers grip. Topping it off was a low cut, pink, midriff tee that showed off her ample cleavage, while giving just a peek of belly.

“I’ve always cared about how I look. I just decided to be more feminine this year,” she said trying to avoid her friend’s eyes.

The gleam in her friend’s eyes, told Ginny that it was more than just thinking.

“So you just out of the blue realized that you are a female?” asked the redhead skeptically.

“Yes,” said Hermione defiantly.

“Hermione, you are a terrible liar. Care to tell me the real reason you feel so…girly?” Ginny questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Ok, it was a guy. He showed me how good it felt being female and not a bookworm,” she blushed.

“Did you--”

“No! I wasn’t ready to go that far!” Hermione exclaimed.

“How far?”

“Let’s put it like this, it the only thing left to do,” she giggled.

Ginny opened her mouth to squeal her approval, when the train whistle blew signaling its pending departure. The four students scrambled on board. As Ginny and Harry stepped into a compartment, Harry turned to Hermione.

“By the way, congratulations on making Head Girl.”

“Thanks, but how did you know?” she asked still cupping the badge in her hand.

“Who else could it be?” he retorted with a smile and quick wink before disappearing into the compartment.

[Erin burns]

I decided to post the next chapter for some reason.

Chapter Three

Draco and a few prefects sat awaiting the arrival of the rest of the house prefects along with the Head Boy and Girl. Head Boy. Through all intents and purposes that title should be his. After all, he was the top student in school second only to Granger, except of course in Potions. Yet, because of his father’s sins he was forced to be punished and Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein rewarded.

A faint, sweet, woodsy vanilla fragrance wafted to his nose once again as the compartment door opened. The smell made his skin tingle, but the sight in front of him upset his stomach. Entering the compartment was the other Slytherin prefect Pansy Parkinson. Her dark hair, which was usually cut in a face-framing bob, had been grown into layers that fell just along her neck. She had a small, slightly upturned nose which gave her face the impression of being smashed inward. It made Draco shake his head and wonder what he had been thinking these past few years.

It was common, yet incorrect knowledge around Hogwarts that he and Pansy were dating. While he admittedly used her for his own pleasures, this was only due to her willingness and accessibility. It was quite hard to find a private place to go to with females from other houses, especially since none wanted to enter the Slytherin dorms. Just because he had shagged her on several occasions did not mean that he had intentions of making a commitment to her.

Pansy, on the other hand, had other plans. Since fourth year when Draco had taken her to the Yule Ball, she had made it her life’s work to become Madam Malfoy. She hopelessly doted on him and would hex, even maim any female whom she felt was a threat to her future.

Upon seeing Draco, she sashayed over to him and sat, crossing her long legs making sure her skirt rode up to show more thigh. Draco inwardly snickered at her attempt to be sexy.

“Drake, I have been so worried about you during the break,” she said breathlessly as she leaned towards him, trying to draw his attention with her cleavage. “I sent several owls, but received no response.”

She looked into his eyes imploringly awaiting an answer.

“Then perhaps you should have taken the hint,” drawled the blonde lazily. “And there is an ‘o’ on the end of my name. You’d do well to remember that.”

Pansy went silent at Draco’s biting remark. The tension lingered between the two as Pansy stared lovingly at Draco and he out the window. The compartment door opened with a few prefects stepping in and bringing with them a stronger version of the fragrance which was enough to make Draco shiver. Pansy took notice.

“Are you alright, Draco?” she asked touching his arm gently.

Draco removed her arm and placed it back into her lap.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he stated.

Coming into his vision was a tall, brown haired wizard. It was Anthony Goldstein. Rarely did Draco resort to physical violence, preferring instead to let his wand do his work. This was one of those rare moments. All he could think about was punching Goldstein just to wipe the smug look off his face.

He thought better of it and just let his eyes continue to follow the movement of the Head Boy. As the Ravenclaw moved away from the Slytherin’s, Draco’s gaze landed on Weasley and Granger. Ribbing them always served to improve his mood.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Pauper and his Brain,” he sneered crisply.

Before Weasley could get to Draco to rearrange his face, the Head Girl was in front of him with a sickeningly, sweet smile.

“Why, thank you, Malfoy. It’s about time you acknowledge my intelligence,” she said before joining Goldstein at the head of the table in the center of the compartment.

“And five points from Slytherin for attempting to insult the Head Girl,” said Goldstein.

“You can’t take points for that,” roared Draco shooting out of his seat and towering over Goldstein.

“Well, seeing as I am Head Boy and you are not, I believe I can and did,” the dark haired wizard replied snottily.


“What’s the matter, Ferret, Daddy couldn’t buy you the position. Oh that’s right; everyone knows he’s a bleeding Deatheater. He couldn’t buy his way out of a paper bag. That’s rotten luck!” said Ron his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll have you know Weasel that I more than earn that title. Something you know nothing about as Granger here has been doing your work since first year.”

The redhead’s face flushed and he began to fidget, trying to get to the blonde.

“He, on the other hand," Draco snapped his head toward the Ravenclaw now at his side, "got it by default. So perhaps *he* should thank my father.”
He jerked away and returned to his seat in the corner of the compartment and stared out of the window. As angry as he was, he could not help, but feel a calm wash over him as he nose picked up that familiar fragrance, except this time it had a raw feminine undertone to it. It washed over his body making his skin tingle. The books that his father had left him had given him enough information for him to deduce that the scent was his mates’. That means she’s on this train. Question is, who is it?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sound of Granger and Goldstein’s voices faded in and out of his ears. Wherever that scent was coming from, it was taking hold of him. The feminine undertone had surged to the surface and was wreaking havoc on his body. His skin had stopped tingling only to be replaced with a drastic rise in his temperature. He had begun to sweat and his mouth felt as if it was filled with cotton. All he could think about was finding her.

“MALFOY!” shouted a frustrated Hermione.

He took a deep breath trying to calm himself as he looked over at the Gryffindor standing near the table.

“What?” he snarled.

“Are you listening to me? I just stated that you and Parkinson are to do rounds first,” she looked at him quizzically. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just bored of hearing your whining voice,” he said pulling himself out of his seat.

“Then do us both a favor and leave,” she snapped at him

“Fine, the sooner I am out of your presence, the better,” he sneered and with a billowing of his robes, he was gone.

When he got outside of the compartment, Pansy was waiting for him. She scanned him worriedly, but took off after him down the aisle of the train. The two walked in silence, Draco taking the time to pull himself together and Pansy watching him closely. As they continued, Draco began feel an emptiness. His body became chilled and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Suddenly, Pansy stopped in the middle of the train. He turned to see why. By the look on her face, he could tell that she was dying to ask him something.

“What is it, Pansy?” he sighed exasperated.

She walked up to him and placed a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure that you are fine? You look pale,” she said as he jerked away.

“In case you hadn’t notice, I’m always pale.”

He tried to walk away, but she grabbed his arm once again, spinning him towards her.

“No, Draco, I mean you don’t look well,” she brought a hand up to caress his cheek. “Merlin, you are ice cold!”

Once again, he snatched himself away from her grasp.

“I don’t need a mother. I have one.”

With that he walked away leaving Pansy alone for the remainder of the trip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione and Anthony walked towards their carriage after ensuring that all the first years got safely in the boats with Hagrid. Anthony was staring at Hermione. He thought he was going to cream his pants upon seeing her in that outfit on the train. He had always imagined what she looked like under those robes, but what he saw greatly exceeded his expectations. Her outfit had revealed a succulent bum, a small waist that he knew his hands could span easily and full breasts that made his mouth water. Her honey-brown hair which had always been bushy, had subdued into a waterfall of soft ringlets that rippled down her back.

Anthony held his hand out to assist Hermione into the carriage. Hesitantly, she took his hand, giving him a small smile as she sat. His heart did a little leap at the touch of her hand. He had spent so much time in the background struggling to compete for her attention. Between her friendship with Harry and Ron and her rivalry with Draco, he never stood a chance. Finally, this was his year. This year she had to pay attention to him because he was Head Boy to her Head Girl. And if things went right, she would be his girl before the year was out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The atmosphere inside the Great Hall was electric as the sorting ended. There three new students for Gryffindor, two for Hufflepuff, four for Ravenclaw and one for Slytherin. Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table to address the student body.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. And for those that are returning, welcome back. I have a few start of term notices before we begin the feast,” he said firmly, yet soft as a quiet grumble swelled throughout the hall.

“First, students are to note that the Dark Forest is forbidden to all students.”

His twinkling, blue eyes looked over his half moon spectacles at the Gryffindor table.

“Also, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, would like me to inform you that there is no magic to be used in the hallways between classes. Finally, it is my duty and pleasure to introduce to you our Head Boy Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw and our Head Girl Hermione Granger of Gryffindor.”

Hermione and Anthony were at the heads of their respective tables and rose to be acknowledged. Draco cursed inwardly as the Ravenclaw took a moment to glance in his direction and smirk. Any other time, he would have sent a silent hex straight at the Ravenclaw table, ensuring that the smug boy made a total arse of himself in front of the whole hall. However at the moment, he had other things on his mind, like getting himself under control.

The scent from the train had come back full force. The scent now was totally raw feminine with only a hint of the sweet, woodsy vanilla fragrance. He could feel his body temperature rise followed, this time, by a tightness in his pants. He squirmed in his chair trying to relieve the pressure, but the friction only made matters worse. It was making his head spin.

After five minutes of his unrelenting hard on, Draco excused himself and quickly as possible made his way to the nearest boys’ bathroom. Unbeknownst to him, Pansy had followed him shortly after his departure. She watched as he hastily snatched open his pants freeing himself. With a shaky hand, he began pumping his knob. Just then Pansy came to stand in front of him.

“Need some help?” she questioned dropping to her knees.

Internally, Draco wanted to tell her to shove off, but he was aroused at the moment that all he could think about was release. He looked down at her and nodded.

Pansy’s pink tongue darted out and flicked at the tip, lingering just long enough to take in the precum oozing from the slit and savor it. She slid the head in her mouth and laved the bottom as she began to pump the shaft with her hand. Draco’s head rolled back, his eyes closed, his breath hitched as he fisted her hair.

Slowly, she began to roll her soft tongue all over the head in her closed mouth. The platinum blonde’s hips began to thrust forward trying to get deeper into the warm cavern of her mouth. Pansy release his head with an audible pop and began to flick the tip once again.

“Stop fuccking with me and suck me off!” growled Draco snatching her head back and jamming his thingy into her mouth.

He began slam into her mouth furiously hitting the back of her throat several times causing her to gag. She tried to keep up, but Draco was too far gone. His balls tightened and he knew his release was not far off. Pansy tried to back away, but he held her head steady as he pumped in and out of her mouth vigorously. With a roar, he came, shooting his load to the back of the brunette’s throat. His knees gave out and he slid down the wall.

Pansy was on her hands and knees coughing. She looked over at Draco who’s eyes had a glazed over look. Calming herself down, she scooted over to where he sat and curled herself under his arm.

“What was that about? I’ve never seen you so forceful,” she stated looking up at him strangely.
He disentangled himself from her arms, stood up and began to straighten himself up.

“It won’t happen again,” he said looking into the mirror and adjusting his tie.

“I’m not complaining,” she started, scrambling up to his side, “it was just-- different.”

She went to wrap her arms around his neck, but Draco pulled back.

“No, I mean it won’t happen again--ever.”

For the second time that day, Draco walked away leaving Pansy alone.

[Valida Jameson]

I liked that a lot. Like I said, I'd be Draco's. lol

[Erin burns]

lol. It does seem that everyone else would want to be his to:



Chapter Four

The Great Hall was audible before Draco entered the corridor. It had been another restless night as a cold, emptiness has once again taken hold of his soul. It had been that way since the night of his arrival. While he had gained a measure of control over himself upon reaching his desired release, the encounter with Pansy has left him pleasured, yet unfulfilled. The same had held true of each time after that when he had taken matters into his own hands. The same cold, emptiness lingered.

Before he could reach the doors to the hall, he was halted by the Potions Master Severus Snape. Most students did not get along with the sallow, dark featured Head of Slytherin House. Then again, Draco was not most students. It also helped that Snape had been a family friend since before Draco was born.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I had hoped that I would run into you before class,” said the greasy haired wizard.

“Is there something you need, sir,” inquired Draco.

“Miss Parkinson informed me that you were ill on the train the other day. Judging by your appearance, I would say that she was correct in her assumptions.”

Snape looked the youth over. Draco’s normally pearlescent complexion had a powdery look to it and the dark circles under his eyes were evident of uneasy, if any, sleep the past few nights. He was normally impeccably dressed, but the wizard that stood in front of the professor, with his tie loosened and his shirt untucked, looked disheveled. Though Miss Parkinson had been distraught regarding the blonde’s health, Snape had not found it necessary to approach Draco. However, his appearance today was cause for concern.

Draco silently fumed at Pansy and her big mouth.

You’d think that after what transpired between us the bint would take my advice and sod off!

“It’s nothing I can’t handle myself, though your concern is appreciated,” clipped Draco.

He breezed past the professor toward his intended destination. Snape grabbed his arm, spinning him around.

“I have known you all your life. You think I do not know when something is the matter?” questioned Snape.

Draco’s shoulders slumped as he lowered his head. He sighed deeply.

"I’m part veela,” he stated.

“What has that to do with your current state of distress?”

“Upon my birthday I came of age to search for my mate,” he sighed.

“I take it the process has begun,” stated Snape quizzically.

“Yes,” he paced in front of Snape. “I have been able to smell *her* since the Hogwarts Express, and not just her perfume. I can smell her--essence.”

“Hmm, pheromones. Most people do not realize that humans give them off as well. We tend to cover them up with perfumes and colognes. If this is true, then it means that your senses have been heightened,” speculated the sallow wizard.

“Yes, but only to her,” stated Draco still pacing.

“So you know who she is, then?”

“No, but I have it narrowed down to three people,” said Draco.

“And who might they be?” Snape explored.

“Padma Patil, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones,” he said blankly.

“Why those three?”

“They are always around when I smell her aroma. Also, I have smelled the aroma in the prefects’ bathroom on several occasions,” said Draco looking at Snape.

“But Bones is not a prefect,” stated Snape matter-of-factly.

“True, but she and Abbott are good friends. Abbott, the past two years, has given Bones the password to the prefect bathroom. I don’t expect any different this year.”

“So, since you are aware your mate is here, but you are unable to find her, you have become ill?” probed the professor.

“In a manner of speaking, my soul is ill,” stated Draco.

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Snape with genuine concern.

Draco shook his head.

“Well, you do need your rest. See me before rounds.”

With a billowing of his robes, the Potions Master was gone, leaving Draco to figure out how he was going to find her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast and watching Ron and Harry complete work for Advanced Charms. Amazingly, she had been able to balance Head Girl duties, school work and spending time with her friends. However, with NEWTs drawing closer she knew that she would be seeing less of her friends. So she relished the time that she had.

“Sheesh, between Quidditch, classes, homework and perfect duties, I barely have time to sleep,” whined Ron handing his parchment to Hermione.

Well, for once, I don’t envy you,” said Ginny unraveling her arm from Harry’s so he could finish his essay.

“I don’t understand how you managed to fall behind so quickly,” said Hermione proofreading Ron’s essay.

“We aren’t behind,” defended Ron. “That Charms work is the only bit we didn’t finish.”

“And how exactly did that happen?” questioned the curly haired brunette with a raise eyebrow.

“We kind of got caught up in a game of chess,” replied Harry guiltily.

She rolled her eyes in her shaking head and handed Ron back his essay.

“I should let you suffer,” she threatened snatching Harry’s parchment out of his hand.

“Thanks, ‘Mione,” said the green eyed wizard knowing his friend would not let him fail.

The conversation quickly turned to Quidditch. Not her favorite topic of conversation, Hermione let her eyes roam the Great Hall. They immediately fell upon the doors just as Draco came storming through them. She was taken aback by his appearance. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, uniform and all, which was highly irregular for someone who looked immaculate, even on a bad day. Her staring did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin who kindly greeted the Gryffindor with his customary sneer. She returned the gesture with a grimace of her own before turning her back to him. Shortly after he took his seat, she felt her eyes drift back in his direction.

Like any other red blooded female, Hermione knew beauty when she saw it and Draco Malfoy was it. His pale complexion seemingly glowed against his platinum locks. An athletic body with sinewy muscles, was the result of years spent playing Quidditch. Yet, the thing that drew her in the most were those mercury colored eyes. They held so much fire in them, one could get lost.

When did I start ogling Malfoy? Since he started looking like sex on a stick. But it’s Malfoy! Still doesn’t change the fact that he is easy on the eyes.

“Hermione?”

Her mental argument was interrupted by someone calling her name.

“Hermione?” the deep voice spoke again.

She looked up into the brown eyes of Anthony Goldstein. Though not as handsome as Draco, Anthony certainly had boyish looks that girls fell for easily. His brown hair fell in his face, giving his eyes a hooded look. While not athletic, his lean body still held the girls’ attention.

“Mind if I walk you to class?” he asked blushing.

“Sure, just let me get my bag, “ she said.

She reached to grab her bag, but Anthony was quicker.

“I’ll get that,” he said slipping the strap over his shoulder.

“T-Thanks,” she said blushing.

They walked towards the dungeons in relative silence making small talk her and there. Hermione noticed, but said nothing about the hand Anthony had placed at the small of her back. She actually was reveling in the attention from the Head Boy. It was not often that guys paid her attention, preferring instead to see her as the studious best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Just as Anthony was opening the door to the potions classroom, the spell was broken by Pansy shoving roughly into Hermione.

“Out of my way, freak!” she shouted trying to enter the classroom.

Having had enough of being picked on and pushed around, Hermione shoved Pansy back, watching as the pug face female landed on her bum with a thud.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” she said in a sugary tone.

“You, biitch!” screamed the Slytherin who was on her feet in a flash, wand at the ready.

Hermione, whose wand was already out, sent Pansy’s flying with no words and barely a flick of her own. She mocked stifling a yawn.

“Aren’t you tired of losing to me, yet?” she taunted.

Pansy’s faced turned red as Ron’s hair as she screamed and darted to assail the Head Girl. Her charge was stopped by a solid body stepping between her and Hermione.

“Now, now, Pans,” drawled Draco. “Do you really want to attack the Head Girl and risk the chance of expulsion? And in front of a professor, no less?”

All eyes of the gathered crowd swiveled in the direction of the dark figure standing behind the Head Boy, who was off to the side. Professor Snape made his way the center of the crowd.

“Tsk, tsk, engaging in magic in the corridors. Clearly a breech of the rules and by none other than our Head Girl. Ten points from Gryffindor,” he sneered. “Now, all of you--in.”

He jerked open the doors and lead the way into the classroom. Anthony was right on his heels.

“Shouldn’t points be taken from Slytherin for Miss Parkinson’s act of physical violence?” questioned the Head Boy in anger.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw for attempting to tell me how to discipline students!” spat Snape spinning to face the Ravenclaw.

Anthony opened his mouth to say something back, but a hand on his arm stopped him. It was Hermione, head shaking, eyes pleading him to be quiet. He clamped his mouth shut.

“You should thank Miss Granger. She just prevented you from getting detention, Mr. Goldstein. To your seat.”

Hermione and Anthony took their seats along with the rest of the class.

“Today, we will begin the Invisibility potion,” said Snape from the front of the room. “Each of you will be assigned a partner and will keep that partner until the winter break, as that is how long it will take for the potion to finish.”

The greasy haired professor began to wander around the room eyeing the students as if to size them up.

“Zabini, Bones,” he began calling out still wandering around the room. “Weasley, Parkinson. Potter, Patil. Goldstein, Abbott. And to ensure that I get at least one perfect potion, Malfoy and Granger.”

Little squabbles broke out as partners decided whom would move to whom. Surprisingly, the Head Girl and the Slytherin prefect were not among them. Knowing if she resisted she would lose house points, Hermione made her way to Draco’s table.

“It’s good to see you have finally learned your place,” he said with a smirk.

“Malfoy, let’s just get this done,” she said flatly not rising to his challenge.

“Fine, but if you f**k up my grade, I’ll personally see that you suffer,” he snarled.

“Yeah, I know, hex, maim, destroy, blah, blah, blah,” she said nonchalantly waving him off.

Draco opened his mouth with a retort but it was interrupted by Snape.

“These,” he said pointing at the chalkboard, “are the directions. Follow them accordingly.”

With that he sat at his desk and began to look over papers.

“Well, have at it, Granger,” said the blonde.

Without so much as a scowl, Hermione quickly made her way to the supply closet. Draco stretched out to relax, but was unsuccessful. He was maintaining great control over himself considering he had a raging hard on, once again.

He had gotten into the habit of casting a disillusionment charm over his crotch every morning before leaving the dorms. It had also become routine for him to have it off in the bathroom before all of his classes, except astronomy. Yet, even during that class he could smell her enough to make his thingy twitch.

He was brought out of his reverie by Hermione’s return with the ingredients. Upon careful inspection, he noticed that several were missing.

“What’s wrong, Granger, can’t follow directions? You only brought half of what we need,” he snapped.

“I can follow directions just fine,” she barked. “I only got half the ingredients because half this project is yours. If you don’t want to, as you so eloquently put it, f**k up your grade, you’ll get you lazy, spoiled arse out of that chair and get the rest.”

Draco sneered at her and opened his mouth to reply angrily, but Hermione interrupted him.

“And telling Snape won’t make me get up, either. I’d rather serve detention than get those supplies. Besides, I’m willing to put my grade on the line just to watch you squirm.”

She began to copy the directions on the board with a self satisfied smile. Knowing defeat when he saw it, Draco made his way to the supply closet.

Each duet was working diligently on their potion. Even Draco and Hermione, who kept up an icy silence since the ingredients fiasco, were unconsciously working as one mind. Amazingly, only a few arguments had broken out throughout the class, but these were not the normal pureblood/Slytherin versus everyone else arguments. Any disagreement that ensued dealt with the potion at hand.

As Hermione, was chopping the Stinging Nettle, Draco found himself watching her. She certainly had changed over the past six years. Her normally bushy hair had settle into soft, rippling curls that bounced like springs whenever she moved her head. Though he could not see it now, he could remember the shape of her bum and how her hips flared out in those jeans on arrival day. Her eyes were a muted brown, reminding him of a two large pieces of chocolate.

He watched her chewed her bottom lip thoroughly as she tried to work out something. When she released it, her already full, pinkish-tan lip was slightly swollen. The action made his already painfully, hardened thingy twitch. He bit his lip to stifle a moan.

I must be mad if Granger can make my thingy twitch, though she has become quite delectable. Wait, this is Granger I’m talking about!

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his mental argument. Deciding that work would keep his mind off the Know-It-All, he reached for the Threstle blood. Hermione too, grabbed for the blood causing hers and Draco’s hands to come in contact. Both recoiled as if struck by lightening. The movement was so forceful that Draco gracelessly fell out of his chair. Hermione was momentarily stunned by the sensation of Draco’s touch, when he fell she shook out of it and tried to help him up.

“Don’t touch me!” he screamed scampering away from her. “Don’t you ever touch me, you--Mudblood!”

Hermione shrank back. Draco struggled to get himself off the ground and away from the Gryffindor. His eyes met hers and he began to break into a cold sweat, it was accompanied with a sharp pain in his heart. The pain was so intense tears streamed down his face. Furious that he was affected this way by Hermione’s touch, he got up and flew out of the dungeon.

Hermione stood there still feeling the tingle from his touch, yet hurt at the filthy name he spat at her. It was not unusual for her to be called that, but for some reason today, it hurt the most. Mechanically, she picked up Draco’s chair and sat in her own.

Snape came billowing to her table.

“Tell me why you feel it necessary to interrupt my class, Miss Granger? What did you do to Mr. Malfoy?” he demanded.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. To the class’ surprise Blaise Zabini spoke up in her defense.

“Sir, it wasn’t the Head Girl’s fault. Both her and Draco reached for the Threstle’s blood at the same time. When their hands touched, they both snatched their hands back and Draco fell out of his chair. Granger was trying to help him up when he started screaming at her.”

Snape’s normally cold eyes, developed a warmth to them. He rushed towards his office, his voice could be heard over his shoulder.

“Class dismissed!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco ran. He ran until he felt his lungs would burst. He fell to his knees in front of the lake.

It was Granger. All this time it was her. But it can’t be, it’s Granger!

Draco tried to piece together what had just happened. He was sure that it had to be either Bones, Abbott or Patil. Where had he calculated wrong? He thought the past few days over. He realized that everywhere the other three were she was as well, in the classes, the Great Hall, the Head compartment on the train…

How could I have missed it?

Because you were too busy stewing in your hate for her, that you disregarded her completely.

Hermione Granger couldn’t really be his mate. Could she? His mind wandered over one of the books that he had read over the summer.

~‘A veela knows its mate not just by smell, but by touch as well. In fact, the first touch is the most powerful, resulting in a lightening like surge flowing through both the veela’s and its mate’s body. In addition to that, the veela will break into a cold sweat. This is the connection of souls….After initial contact, the veela will become empathic to its mate.’~

Draco thought back to Hermione’s reaction after they had touched. She had jumped back as well, as if shocked. He recalled how he had cried when he looked into her eyes after calling her a ‘mudblood.’

It’s because I could feel what she felt.

There was no doubt about it Hermione Granger was his mate.

Now what?

[Valida Jameson]

How awesome. Pure awesome.

[Erin burns]

Thanks Valida,

Chapter Five

Hermione stormed through the halls after making a quick dash from the potions room. She was furious! Once again Draco had called her that horrid name and hurt her. She was angry that after all these years and every torment he had dished out, he still had the power to hurt her with that one word. Even more than that, she was angry at herself for giving Draco that power. If she would just not react when he called her that, he would have no clue how hurt she felt and he would stop calling her that. She was angry at herself for thinking he had changed. Granted he had not called her that name since fifth year, instead referring to her as ‘Granger,’ but today proved that the old Draco was just simmering below the surface waiting to erupt.

Well, I’ll not make that mistake again.

Still, there was the touch. Hermione was both angry and confused at how her body had reacted. How could one touch from Draco Malfoy, of all people, make her feel as if a jolt of electricity had shot through her and left her craving for more? Just thinking about the touch gave her goose bumps.

Bloody hormones!

“‘Mione!” Harry and Ron shouted in unison running to catch their friend.

“Alright there, Mione?” he questioned once they had reached her side.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to let that ferret get the best of me,” said the brunette lifting her chin defiantly, hoping her friends did not see how she really felt.

“I just want one good chance to smash in his smug face,” said Ron hotly, his face a shade lighter than his hair.

“Oh Ronald,” she said rolling her eyes at his temper, “that’s just what he wants. I you really want to piss the little rodent off--ignore him. You know he can’t stand not being the center of attention.”

She spun around, curls flying and continued her escape from the dungeons. Just then Anthony sidled up to her.

“Hermione, are you alright? Malfoy did not hurt you did he? If he did, I can ensure you he will serve detention for it,” he said fiercely.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, though she was appreciative of his concern.

“Anthony, it is fine. I expect no less of Malfoy.”

“He should not be able to call you that without consequences,” he protested.

“A detention will not change his thoughts, it will only cause him to seek revenge,” she said matter-of-factly. “It is a cycle that I, frankly, am tired of repeating. Now I’m going to the library.”

“Oh come on ‘Mione,” whined Ron, “you have the rest of your life to spend in a library. Come to the common room with us.”

“Ron, NEWTs are coming up and I have not begun to study for them because I have been spending time with my friends. It is time that I, and you for that matter, start studying.”

Ron gave her a worried look, knowing how obsessive she could be when it came to her studying. In the past it was not uncommon for her to disappear in the library and not be seen for a whole day, kipping meals and all.

“I promise not to overdo it,” she reassured at her friend’s expression. “I see you at lunch, promise.”

With that she turned on her heel and headed towards the library. Harry and Ron departed for the Gryffindor common room for a impromptu game of Wizard’s Chess. Anthony ran to catch up with Hermione.

“Mind if I accompany you? I could do with some studying myself.”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” she said flashing him a bright smile.

“Here let me take that,” he said stopping her to grab the bag off her shoulder.

“I can carry it,” she said slipping the strap back on her shoulder.

“I was merely being a gentleman. After all, a lady as pretty as yourself should always have someone carrying her bag,” he said dropping his head in a subtle blush.

"Oh,” said Hermione a little shocked at his compliment.

Anthony took advantage of her stunned silence, slipped the bag off her shoulder and headed for the library.

“Coming?” he called over his shoulder.

She smoothly made her way to Anthony’s side, all traces of her shock gone. She peered at him from the corner of her eye. She gave a shrug.

A girl could do worse.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco had wandered around the grounds until he found a small alcove hidden from sight that overlooked the lake. He still could not get over the initial shock of it. He stared out at the lake. Granger…his mate! How could the fates do this to him? Well, he would not be a puppet in some supernatural game.

“Mr. Malfoy, there you are,” a gentle voice startled him.

He turned and looked up to see Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Before his father’s arrest, Draco had been brainwashed to believe that Dumbledore was a muggle-loving, meddlesome, old coot. Yet, six years of being in the Headmaster’s presence had shown Draco that Dumbledore cared for his students and wanted only peace and harmony for both worlds. In spite of that, six years had not squashed the nosy label. In fact, Draco had a feeling that he was about to put that crooked nose where it was not wanted.

“Were you looking for me, sir?”

“It seems that you are, as the muggles would say, ‘down in the dumps.’ Care to talk about it?” inquired the silver haired wizard.

“Not particularly,” said Draco turning back to stare at the lake.

Dumbledore gathered up his burgundy robes and sat next to his student. Both sat in rapt silence watching fish break the surface of the water. The Headmaster was the first to break the silence.

“So how are classes coming along?” he asked trying to start small talk.

“Can we please skip the pleasantries? Draco questioned in an exasperated tone. “I know Professor Snape sent you.”

“Yes, that is correct. He seems rather concerned about your behavior as of late,” he said continuing in his gentle manner.

“I’m going through some things right now,” the Slytherin said vaguely.

“Yes, I am sure that being part veela cannot be easy on you at this time,” said the headmaster plainly.

Draco turned his head to the white haired wizard with a frown.

“Apparently, privacy is not a luxury here,” he muttered under his breath.

“Professor Snape told me because there is much that you need to know and only I can tell you,” said Dumbledore calmly, ignoring the student’s earlier remark.

Draco did not speak. He simply turned his head back to the lake.

“I was under the impression that the veela blood had died out in the Malfoy family,” probed the Headmaster.

“It almost had,” begun Draco emotionlessly, “but my great, great grandfather married a witch who also had veela blood, thus strengthening the bloodline again.”

The two fell into a silence once again.

“My father has informed me of what will happen. He also provided me with a few books with info on the changes I’ll go, rather am going, through,” said the young wizard arrogantly.

Dumbledore smiled with a look of amusement in his eyes.

“Tell me, what your father has told you.”

“Nothing that I couldn’t find in the books. A veela’s senses are heightened to its mate and initial physical contact is the soul connection. After the connection, the veela is empathic to its mate. While I know nothing of the bond, Father did inform me that I will not die should I not find my mate. However, I will be subjected to a life of despair.”

A small price to pay considering Granger is my mate. A life with her would be death itself.

“That is not entirely true, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore staring at the lake.

“What do you mean?” asked Draco in confusion.

“A veela who has not found its mate will live a life of despair, but one who has found its made and fails to bond,” said Dumbledore eerily, “its soul will fade. While it is not death, it is not life either.

Draco’s normally pearly tone turned a sickly shade of green. This did not go unnoticed by the Headmaster, but he said nothing.

“Veelas are truly a private race and therefore no one knows about the actual bonding process. Only a veela, true or partial, who has gone through the bond can tell what it entails.”

Draco turned an eve sicklier shade of green.

“Great then, I’m screwed,” he choked out in a whisper.

“Do not be so sure,” said the older wizard with a frown at the younger’s chose of words.

“So your telling me that you can find another male veela to tell me about bonding, even though they come only perhaps two a generation?” snapped the blonde mockingly.

“Silence," Dumbledore snapped in his quiet way, “just listen. The bond is different that the connection. The connection is merely the souls identifying each other through touch. The bond, on the other hand, is the combining of souls and is a more intimate act.”

Draco looked at the Headmaster incredulously, yet understanding his meaning.

I can see Granger going for that!

Once again an awkward silence lingered between the two.

“Considering by your earlier reaction, I can assume you know who your mate is,” said Dumbledore breaking the tranquility.

Draco nodded his head with disgust.

“And I can take it a step further and state that you are not pleased with the outcome,” he stated rather than questioned.

Draco gave a nasty grunt in reply.

“Hmm,” contemplated the silver haired wizard. “May I ask who it is?”

“Granger!” Draco spat as if the very name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Well, that certainly may pose a bit of a problem,” muse the Headmaster with a smile.

“A bit of a problem? Are you mad?” shouted Draco. “She loathes me! The only person that she hates more is You Know Who. How could the fates choose her?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he smile his knowing smile.

“The fates choose mates for veelas that will challenge, yet compliment them. Apparently the fates believed that Miss Granger, with her intelligence, bravery and pride, much like yourself, would be a perfect match.”

“Sir, she despises me,” groaned the Slytherin.

“Love is but at step away from hate,” pondered the wise wizard out loud.

Draco’s eyes flashed fiercely as his temper boiled over.

“I will not do this! I am a Malfoy! I bend to no one, not even fate!” he barked.

“Do not let stubborn pride condemn you took a soulless existence,” warned Dumbledore. “Whether you bond with Miss Granger or not, the fates will have their way.”

Draco’s temper began to ease as he pensively stared at the lake once more.

Trapped…that’s what this feeling is.

He continued to mull things over and Dumbledore rose from his place. The silver haired wizard was preparing to leave his students with his thoughts. The blonde looked up at the Headmaster.

“If veelas are so private, how is it you know so much about the bonding?” he questioned.

“Because I am one in a generation, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore with a smile before he quietly slipped away.

Draco watched him with astonishment until his burgundy robes disappeared on the horizon. He returned to his thoughts. Regardless, what he may have told the Headmaster, he did not want to live a soulless life. It was a fate worse than death. In order to keep his soul, he would have to bond with Granger.

But how? It’s not like she’ll just fall at my feet.

He turned his face up sourly. He would have to get in her good graces. The only way he was going to be able to do that was by doing something no Malfoy ever did. He swallowed bitterly.

I’ll have to apologize.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anthony stared at Hermione from behind his book. He watched as she absent mindedly twirled a honey-brown curl between two fingers while she read. The world around the Gryffindor seemed to disappear and nothing existed except the words on the page she was reading. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. Well, except in his dreams, in which, she was writhing beneath him. A small smile played across his lips as images of Hermione’s naked body sprawled across his bed flashed through his mind. He shifted uncomfortably to lessen the pressure of his growing erection.

“Anthony?” her voice burst through his thoughts.

“What--? Oh I am sorry. Were you saying something?” he stuttered a bit embarrassed that she may have read his mind.

“I said we had better get to Transfiguration. McGonagall will have kittens if we’re late,” she said rising to gather her things.

Anthony chuckled at her pun and helped her, once again taking her bag out of her hands. They left the library making there way to class. Every few feet he would glance at Hermione admiring the way her curls would bounce with every step. He longed to wrap his hands in the soft curls as he was plunged in the silkiness of her mouth.

Yet, he knew he had to take his time. She was a virgin and if he wanted any chance with her, he would have to control himself. He took a deep breath and concentrated on something else to take his mind off of his hard on. Still, he had to make her understand that he fancied her. He also had to make it know to everyone else that she was his. His face lit up in a grin…he knew just the way.

well?

[Valida Jameson]

I wonder what Anthony is going to do? Hmm...guess I'll have to wait and see. And I wonder who was Dumbledore's mate...

[Erin burns]

You'll see!

Chapter Six

The Great Hall buzzed with lunchtime activity. Classes were in full swing now and students were either busy completing homework or idly chatting between mouthfuls of food. Draco sat at the Slytherin table staring at the entrance contemplating his next move.

Apologizing was not an action that Malfoys took. Yet he knew that the only way to get into Hermione’s good graces was to swallow that Malfoy pride and apologize. His view of the doors were blocked as Pansy sat in front of him.

“Are you ok, Drake? What did that mudblood do to you?” she questioned leaning across the table to caress his face.

Draco pulled back from her touch.

“For the last time, you insufferable twit, there is an ‘o’ at the end of my name. Use it. As far as Granger is concerned, that is none of your business,” he snapped icily.

The female Slytherin was genuinely shocked at the venom in his tone. While he was never truly gentle with his words, he never spoke to her in such a harsh manner as he had been lately. It angered her. She had been there for him when his father was arrested, had suffered humiliation at his sexual escapades and been there each time he needed someone to vent on when that Gryffindor trio got the better of him.

“You know, Draco,” she began stressing the ‘o,’ “I’ve had quite enough of that famous Malfoy attitude. I have done nothing, but been there for you and this is the thanks I get,” she said questioningly.

“Well, then please be so offended that you never speak to me again,” he said sardonically.

“Don’t get pissy with me because the mudblood got the better of you--again,” she grinned evilly.

Draco’s mercury eyes narrowed. Pansy had no idea how much of a double entendre her statement was.

“As I recall, you weren’t exactly on top of things this morning yourself,” he sneered.

Pansy’s self satisfied grin faded and she stood from her spot.

“I don’t know why I continue to bother with you,” she huffed.

She gave him a flip of her hair and flounced away to join her friends that were farther down the table.

Shaking off his encounter with the female Slytherin prefect, he let his eyes wander to the Gryffindor table. The trio, which normally sat in his eyesight path, was one shy. The Head Girl had not made her appearance.

Probably begging for extra work from McGonagall.

Just then the doors to the Great Hall burst open and in step the Head Girl accompanied by the Head Boy. No one took notice as it was common to see the two together discussing their duties. Today, however, held more than a business atmosphere, as was evident by the had Anthony had placed on the small of Hermione’s back.

Draco took notice of this and felt a wave of panic, yet warmth rush through him. The panic was his own at his bond being threatened. Hermione was feeling warmth at Anthony’s touch.

Why is she warmed at Goldstein’s touch? She’s my mate, not his.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two heads had decided that dinner was the only time that they would sit at the head of their respective tables, leaving the other meals open to social time with their housemates. Keeping to this pattern, Anthony escorted Hermione to the Gryffindor table. He made sure to keep his hand in place, even stepping closer to her in a possessive manner. From the glances he received, people were getting the message. However, he wanted to make it clear.

When he got Hermione to her table, he casually put her bag on the bench. Then to everyone’s surprise he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, yet firm. He licked across her bottom lip seeking entrance. As she parted her lips , he swept his tongue in and explored her mouth.

Hermione stiffened in shock at first, but she loosened as her body began to warm. But, as quickly as it came, it was over, leaving Hermione gob smacked at the Head Boy’s bold action.

“Enjoy your lunch,” he whispered in her ear letting his wet lips brush against her ear.

He walked away noticing the look on everyone’s faces with a smug smile.

That should prove my point.

Hermione stood with her mouth agape watching Anthony walk to his table with a confidence that she had not seen before. Once she realized that eyes were on her, she blushed and took her seat.

“What was that about?” questioned Ron in a demanding tone.

“I-I honestly don’t know,” she said with a partial smile, yet confusion in her eyes.

“Ron, you are truly dense. Isn’t it obvious? The Head boy fancies our Head Girl,” gushed Ginny.

Ron scowled at his sister for the implication that he was stupid.

“It’s about time he made a move,” spoke up Seamus Finnigan, a seventh year.

“What’s that supposed you mean,?” questioned a wide-eyed Hermione.

“He’s fancied you since third year,” he said in his Irish brogue.

“How come I’ve not noticed?”

Hermione frowned at the thought of not knowing something that involved herself.

“Well, to be honest,” began Ginny cautiously, “you’ve been too caught up in school work, duties and your adventures with Ron and Harry to notice.”

She pondered this momentarily. Admittedly, she had been too involved with other things to even notice anyone outside of her circle. Besides, since third year the only guy that she had even recognized in that way was Ron.

“Not to mention the effort that you put into your rivalry with Malfoy,” said Neville Longbottom absently.

Everyone turned to stare at the normally timid seventh year.

What?” he asked in response to his housemates looks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco had been watching the interplay between the heads. When Anthony had kissed Hermione, he had felt an emotion that he rarely felt. Jealousy. And, it was not an average jealousy, it was a temperature boiling, enraged jealousy. The only thing he could think about was ripping Goldstein’s throat out for even thinking of his mate in such a fashion. His face contorted in the evilest of frowns as his now steel gray eyes narrowed, fixated on the brown haired wizard.

He felt eyes boring into the side of his face. He turned to see Dumbledore giving him a warning glare. Draco breathed deeply attempting to control his raging emotions. Once calmed enough, a sense of fear washed over him. Fear that he would react in such a way, seeing as he had made such a fuss earlier about hating Hermione.

Regardless of his feelings towards the Head Girl, he knew that his soul depended on her. He would not be a Slytherin if he did not think of himself first. He needed her and he would have her. Swallowing his pride, he rose and made his way to the Gryffindor table.

Neville looked up from his plate to see Draco approaching.

“Speaking of Malfoy, he’s coming this way,” he said with a hint of fear in his voice.

Harry and Ron were up just as the fair haired wizard’s strides halted in front of Hermione. Many of the students in the hall sensing the tension, sat still in their seats awaiting the fireworks.

“Granger, I need to speak with you,” Draco said crisply making it sound like a demand rather than a request.

Before Hermione could open her mouth, Ron was in front of her, fists balled.

“You said enough,” the redhead gritted out.

“I don’t believe I was talking to you, Weasel,” he said in a bored tone as he bit back a sarcastic remark.

He gaze fell back to the female of the Gryffindor trio. He admitted that she was not a heart stopping beauty--more average than anything--yet there was something about her that he could not quite put his finger on. His eyes roamed her petite body. She had removed her robe and was sitting primly in her uniform. The ample swell of her breast was quite noticeable, through the oxford and vest. His eyes traveled farther down and noticed her rosy, beige legs that peeked out of the gray skirt. It amazed him how she had not grown that much since first year, but her skirts continued to get shorter.

He looked back into her face. Besides feeling her anger, he could see it on her face. Her normally muted, chocolate orbs were glassy with the fire of dislike. She had pulled her plump, fleshy bottom lip between her teeth, in a effort to control her fury.

Draco breathed her aroma in deeply. It was the sweetest thing that he had ever smelled. The action caused his already painful erection to throb even more. He shifted his weight in an effort to ease it.

It’s time for another knuckled shuffle.

“Privately, “ he said to Hermione, edging closer with a desire to touch her.

Harry blocked his path.

“Anything you have to say to her can be said in front of us, “ he said commandingly.

Draco rolled his eyes at the two ‘body guards.’

“So how does it work?” he asked gesturing at the three friends. “She does your thinking, you do her speaking?”

“I can speak just fine for myself, when the person is worth speaking to,” she spat. “Considering our last conversation, you aren’t that person.”

“This is important,” he attempted his most businesslike tone.

He side stepped the ‘body guards’ quickly, making sure to brush his body lightly against her hand, as he came to stand at her side. Draco felt the current run through his body. He began to sweat as his temperature rose, yet he was chilled enough for goose bumps to appear on his skin. Since he anticipated this reaction, he breathed deeply to keep himself under control. Instead, he watched Hermione’s reaction closely.

When he brushed against her, Hermione’s head shot up and brown met gray--magnetically. Her breath shortened, her pulse raced and her body heated. She began to feel an achy throb between her legs and crossed them in an attempt to relieve the pressure, only to find her panties were dampened with her juices. She broke contact by closing her eyes to calm herself.

“What is it?” she exhaled.

Draco looked around himself. He had resigned to the fact that he would have to apologize to Hermione. He had not counted on that apology to take place in front of a table of people--Gryffindors no less.

Even I won’t stoop to that level.

There would be other opportunities and ways to speak with her. Feeling the heated stare of both Harry and Ron on him, Draco contemplated a graceful exit. He was saved when a figure appeared over his shoulder. Professor McGonagall had noticed the confrontation and decided to put a stop to it. She quickly advanced toward the small crowd before the usual scene could be made.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked through pursed lips.

“Nothing, Professor. Malfoy was just leaving,” Harry said his green eyes flashing at the nemesis.

Malfoy looked at the stern face of the Deputy Headmistress and decided that leaving would be best.

“We’ll talk later, Granger,” he drawled smoothly while holding her eyes hostage. Without argument, he turned and left.

Professor McGonagall turned to the rest of the group. She had a look of disappointment and frustration on her face.

“I am truly tired of this. Every year it’s the same thing. All of you are of age and should act accordingly, instead of continuing with this petty rubbish,” she snapped.

“But Malfoy started it,” wailed Ron childishly.

“I do not care who started it, Mr. Weasley. It ends here. I trust we will not have this conversation again, otherwise points will be taken.”

McGonagall briskly returned to the staff table leaving the Gryffindors feeling no less than first years. Hermione barely heard the Transfiguration professor’s reprimand. She was still reeling from Draco’s touch. Anthony had kissed her moments ago and he had not even come close to affecting her the way Draco’s barely there touch had. Where before she was angered at her body’s reaction, this time she felt disheartened at her desire to feel his hands on her again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Draco was making his way back to the Slytherin table, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned and was eye level with the Head Boy. He nonchalantly looked at the hand on his shoulder and back at the brown haired wizard with a raised eyebrow.

“Let me make this clear, Malfoy. You leave Hermione alone. You don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her, you don’t even think about her,” Anthony said forebodingly.

Draco gave his customary sneer before taking a step closer into the other wizard’s space.

“And if I do?” he egged.

“You’ll have me to deal with,” said the Head Boy with a sneer to match the Slythernin’s.

The blonde prefect’s fists clenched and he stepped closer, ready to attack. However, he caught a glimpse of the staff table out of the corner of his eye. He decided against a physical attack, not wishing to get expelled. Still he refused to completely back down. With a menacing chuckle, he steeped even closer until his and Anthony’s faces were practically touching.

“Now let me make this clear, Goldstein. Don’t you ever attempt to threaten me. And as far as Granger goes, that is none of your concern. However, if you value your limbs, you will stay out of my way and away from her.” said Draco, not realizing he had made that last statement.

Anthony’s face flushed with anger. However, before he could express his fury, Draco gave him a slight smirk and with a snap of his robes stormed out of the Great Hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco dipped into the nearest boy’s bathroom. He made quick work of freeing his painful erection from its confines. It had been in that state since potions. He delicately began pumping the throbbing shaft. It was so sensitive that a prickling of tears stung his eyes with each movement. His thumb swiped the precum that glistened along the head, causing his body to jump at the sensation.

Images of Hermione rushed through his mind. He imagined her body atop him bucking and writhing to the rhythm that he was setting. So intense were his visions that he swore he could hear her screaming his name like a sweet mantra. He increased his ministrations until his hand was moving so fast it was a blur.

“Hermione!” he bellowed as his release shot out like an endless fountain.

The tears that were just a prickling began to flow freely, as the part veela slid down the wall exhausted and in anguish for his mate.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in the Great Hall an odd wave of despair and pain rushed over the petite Head Girl. As the brief feeling past, she dabbed her lashes that were wet with unshed tears.

Where had that come from?

She shuddered and put the thought out of her mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the day past in a seemingly normal manner. Hermione was relieved that Draco had not approached her since lunch. Little did she know that Draco was just awaiting the perfect moment to approach her, a time when her Gryffindor bodyguards and that blasted Head Boy would not be around. His opportunity came before dinner.

Trying to get a jumpstart on his homework, Draco decided to find solitude in the library. He had always loved the library. The tomes upon tomes of musty knowledge always gave him a sense of peace. Even at Malfoy Manor he could be found in the library absorbing the written wisdom.

He settled himself in a back corner far from the Restricted Section. He had always found that area to be too open for his taste. As he was removing his books from his bag, he heard a soft humming. The familiar woodsy vanilla aroma wafted to his nose leaving a tingling sensation.

He walked around searching for her, following the aroma and her humming. In an aisle full of transfiguration books, he found her oblivious to the world around her. To his delight, she was alone.

“Granger,” he said quietly careful not to incur the wrath of Madame Pince the librarian.

Startled, she whirled around. Her face contorted into a grimace at the sight of the Slytherin prefect.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked sourly.

“As I said before, I want to talk to you,” he replied coolly.

“Then say what you have to say and leave,” she said brusquely.

Draco looked at the fire blazing in her eyes and winced at the dislike he could feel coming from her. Surprisingly though, he did feel a sense of hope at this. After all, dislike was not as strong as hate. Dislike could be changed, hate was a much harder task.

Hermione sighed irritably and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Draco. He shifted his weight nervously.

“I wanted to um--to um,” he stuttered looking down at his shuffling feet.

“To what?” she questioned impatiently.

Draco sighed to gather his composure. His hormones were running rampant. He was hard just standing next to her.

This is utterly ridiculous.

“I wanted to let you know that contrary to popular belief, I am not like my father,” he stated bluntly.

“Could have fooled me,” she said acidly.

“Listen, I know I’ve done and said horrid things, but it really wasn’t me,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Then pray tell who was it? Because it certainly looked and sounded like you,” she spat sarcastically.

“I know it was me physically. What I mean is that--,” he cut himself short struggling to say that phrase.

Hermione watched the Slytherin with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

“Well, this has been an enlightening conversation,” she said in a dry, yet false sugary tone.

She spun on her heel and began walking away. Draco grabbed her wrist to impede her escape. The direct contact made both of them gasp. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sensations running through him. He opened his eyes in time to see Hermione just opening her own, retaining a bedroom look.

“Don’t go,” he choked out.

She looked at him with curiosity and then down at the hand that was still holding her wrist. Her eyes floated back to search Draco’s steely orbs.

“What happened to ‘don’t touch me, mudblood?,’” she asked bitterly, though she could not bring herself to pull away.

Draco dropped his eyes and began to absently brush his thumb back and forth across her delicate wrist. This caused the tingling sensations to shoot right to her sweet spot, making her breathlessly lean against the bookshelf behind her for support.

“About that… I grew up in a family where you did what you were told or else there were dire consequences. Anyway…itwon’thappenagain,” he rushed rubbing the back of his neck at the fact that he had divulged some much.

Hermione just looked at him slacked jawed.

Did Draco Malfoy just apologize to me?

“‘Mione?”

Ron’s harsh whisper caused Hermione to jump off the bookshelf as if burnt, propelling her into Draco’s arms. As she looked up, she became trapped in those mercury colored eyes. She took a deep, yet shuddering breath. She breathed in his manly aroma, a sweet musk with a hint of citrus and the undertones of what could only be described as Draco.

As if magnetically pulled, Draco leaned in to her. Succulent lips on his own sent fire coursing through his veins. Feeling a sudden addiction to her, he pulled her closer deepening the kiss as he slipped his tongue in her mouth to plunder her sweetness. He threaded his fingers through her hair and began to nibble and lick her lips, all the while he was grinding his erection into her pelvis causing her whimper in desire.

Then suddenly Hermione was feeling a cool breeze and emptiness. She opened her eyes to find Ron staring strangely at her. Draco had gone, leaving nothing but his scent and her with her lips pouted for another kiss.

“You alright, ‘Mione?” asked Ron.

Y-Yes, I-I’m f-fine,” she stuttered through gasping breaths.

“Ok,” he said skeptically, “you ready for dinner?”

“Sure, just let me gather my things.”

Ron help her get her book and the two took the familiar path to the Great Hall.

The dinner crowd was more subdued than lunch. Still, students eagerly chatted about their day and enjoyed their scrumptious meal. Hermione stood watching the scene with a small pang of hurt. This was the last year that she would share these pleasures. School would end and the war with You Know Who would be in full swing for them. Ron’s voice broke her from her fog.

“Knut for your thoughts,” he said quietly.

She shook the darkening thoughts out of her head, put on her bravest smile and turned to her friend.

“It’s nothing, just reminiscing,” she said.

“Oh,” he said never the wiser to the truth, “well, I have rounds tonight. Will we see you later in the common room?”

“Sure,” she said brightly.

They parted ways once they reached the table. Ron sat with their normal group of friends and Hermione continued to the head of the table. Anthony was waiting by her chair with a bright smile.

“Hermione, love,” said warmly.

He gathered her up and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, which were still swollen from being thoroughly kissed by Draco.

She stiffened and pulled back from him at this action and her eyes flew to his. Anthony’s brown eyes shined with mirth he drew lazy circles along the back of the hand he had grabbed when she had pulled away from him. She slowly sat in her chair in a state of confusion. He leaned to whisper in her ear.

“My apologies. You must be shy about public displays of affection. I will try to curb them, though it is hard with one such as yourself,” he inwardly chuckled at his double meaning of that last phrase.

“Anthony, we--”

“No, no, love. It is quite alright. We should be a bit private,” said causally patting her hand.

Hermione stared partially dumbfounded and partially annoyed at the patronizing tone of the slightly muscular wizard.

Does he honestly think we--?

He reached over to brush a wisp of hair from her face and linger to caress her cheek, until Hermione pulled back.

“I have rounds with Parkinson tonight,” he said standing straight, a bit irritated at her stiffness towards him, “so I will be unable to walk you to your room. However, I will escort you to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Anthony, we--” said Hermione in a stronger, frustrated voice.

“It is settled then. Until tomorrow love,” he said giving her hand a quick kiss .

Anthony spun around and purposefully let his eyes fall on the blond Slytherin that he knew was watching them. Draco’s face was a shade of red he had never seen before. Even when Potter had gotten Malfoy Sr. thrown into to Azkaban, Draco had never been as mad as he was portraying. Anthony gave a lift of his brow and a challenging grin in salute to the seething Slytherin.

Hermione of course was unaware of the quick and silent interaction between the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw. She continued to sit stewing in her own confusion of the Head Boy. Slowly, her eyes traveled to the Slytherin table and found Draco’s. She thought she could see a hint of despair in his face, but then he narrowed his steely grays at her with a vicious sneer. Hermione immediately felt a jerking in her stomach as if she was being yanked by a portkey. Not knowing why she felt ashamed, she dropped her eyes from Draco’s, unable to bare his gaze.

Draco had seen the entire scene between the Heads. He growled deep in his throat as Anthony stood awaiting Hermione. He could feel the fire in him when the brown haired wizard had kissed his mate. It was not the same pleasurable fire that he felt when he kissed Hermione, it was dark and dangerous. He balled his fists so tight that his well manicured nails had cut into his skin.

He close his eyes as the fire continued to consume him. As he was opening his eyes, he was just in time to meet Anthony’s. The urge to rip that sanctimonious arsehole apart with his bare hands was almost undeniable. For a split second it was gone as he turned to look into Hermione’s subdued brown spheres. Then what Anthony had did to her came back to him. Strangely, the thought of losing his mate before he actually had her infuriated him producing the fire again. He rose in his seat to follow his instincts.

Draco stop! Leave here at once!

A gentle, yet firm voice exclaimed in his head. Draco’s eyes flew to the staff table and connected with Dumbledore’s. Draco sneered at the Headmaster and took another step.

Do not push me, Mr. Malfoy!

Taking his eyes off Dumbledore, he shot them back to the Head Boy. With a growl he gripped his fists even tighter, digging deeper into his skin causing blood to drip through his fingers.

I assure you, he will not take your mate! She belongs to you and only you. Mr. Malfoy, please leave!

Dumbledore was trying to sooth the angry part veela’s mind. In an act of defiance, Draco held the stare of the wise wizard’s cobalt eyes and began to make his way towards his adversary. Dumbledore rose from his seat and stopping the blond dead in his tracks with just that action.

NOW, MR. MALFOY!!

With look at Hermione, Draco’s expression softened , yet as his view took in Anthony once again, his face turned to stone. A challenging step from Dumbledore--his hand in his cloak gripping his wand--and Draco flew from the Great Hall.


SO how is it so far? My fingers still hurt from typing all that.

[Valida Jameson]

Aww. Sorry that your fingers are hurting. But that was awesome. I really enjoyed it. Though, Anthony disgusts me for some reason.

[Erin burns]

I hate him to. I have no clue why I made him up.

[Valida Jameson]

lol You know, when I hate my characters...I kill them off. Why don't you do that?

[Erin burns]

Na, I can't. That would ruin the whole plot.

[Erin burns]

Chapter Seven

The Gryffindor common room was alive as always. Most students sat amicably talking and laughing while some had found quiet corners to finish their assignments. Harry and Ron were in their normal spot by the fireplace with a chessboard between them and Ginny intently watching. Hermione sat nearby with her face in a book, yet she was far from reading it.

Her mind was busy replaying the past month. Since his kiss a month ago, Anthony had continued his mission in staking his claim on her. He had become her shadow, popping up and following her--he called it escorting--everywhere. The only time she had away from him was in her house tower or in her private suite. The Heads had private suites that, thankfully, were not connected to one another. Hers had become her private sanctuary and she did not want anyone there unless she had invited them. This being the case, she had not given her password to anyone, not even her best friends.

In addition to his shadowing, he had gotten into the habit of giving her gifts. They were not romantic gifts, except the chocolates that he presented her with daily. They were often baubles such as quills, books and the like that she could use for her studies. In a month’s time, she had developed a small corner in her study devoted to her gifts from him.

Hermione was still flattered by his attentions, but she did feel like she was leading him on because she was still unsure of her feelings for him. Then again, he never gave her the time to think about it. Whenever she would brooch the topic of him giving her space to think, he would disappear claiming “duty called” and that they would talk later. She had never clarified if she was or was not his girl, but Anthony did not seem bothered by that fact, as he continued to act as if they were a couple. Each time that Hermione set herself to correct the situation, things would come up such as Head duties, school work or Anthony just would once again disappear. It was enough for the subject to be pushed to the back of her mind. It was not until recently that she found her mind wandering about it. Surprisingly, Draco had been the catalyst that triggered her mind.

Draco had proven to be quite the enigma in the past month. He used to be pretty predictable, hating anything not pureblood, strutting around with his superior, arrogant attitude and just generally starting trouble. However, after his unexpected apology and shocking kiss, he had not bothered Hermione and her friends. Though he had refrained from torturing her or even approaching her, his eyes were always on her. Whenever she would catch him staring he would have a look on his face as if he wanted to tell her something, but then it would fade. Of course Ron and Harry has noticed the staring and questioned her. She assured them nothing was wrong and to ignore him. After all, Malfoy had proven over the past six years to be all talk, no action.

That idea changed about a week ago. Hermione was leaving Transfiguration and, as had become routine, Anthony was with her. A bout of clumsiness had hit her and she tripped. The Head Boy, quick on his toes, grabbed her around the waist to prevent her fall.

It had become common for Anthony to touch Hermione, as he would often make excuses to do so. Therefore, she was not bothered nor conscious of the hands wrapped around her waist. As she was assuring Anthony of her well being, she felt eyes burning through her. She looked to see Draco staring, not directly at her, but at the hands that were still caressing her hips. The intensity of the daggers he was sending their way gave her a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could see the threat in Draco’s eyes towards Anthony and for once took it seriously. Wanting to distance herself from the Slytherin’s out-of the-ordinary reaction and keep the Head Boy safe, she moved away from the touch and made her way down the hall, urging Anthony to follow her. Before she disappeared from his sight, Hermione took a look back at the brooding blonde and oddly enough noticed relief etched across his face.

Each time after that, when Anthony touched her she could feel Draco’s burning stare. Although she was relatively new to the whole lust and dating scene, it did not take all her mental capacity to realize that Anthony’s touching made Draco spit fire. The question was why. Her answer came in the most unexpected way.

~Flashback~

She had been finishing her rounds of the fifth floor when someone grabbed her, forcing her into a tight niche between the walls. A calloused, yet warm hand covered the scream she nearly emitted. Her eyes opened to discover she was face to chest with Draco.

“Malfoy! Have you gone mad?!” she barked.

She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but the crevice was too small. Her body began to heat up and her breath shallowed at his closeness. Taking a gulp of air, she looked into the face of her abductor.

“What do you want?” she asked trying to sound irritated, yet it came out breathy.

“Stay away from Goldstein,” he answered with a warning tone.

A flabbergasted, yet angry look flashed at him when she looked him in the eye.

“First, you give me that piss poor apology for calling me that wretched name, yet again. Then, for reasons known only to you and Merlin, you kiss me. You stare at me constantly and act as if you will rip out Anthony’s throat anytime he touches me. Now you presume to tell me who I can and cannot associate with? Just what are you up to, you sneaky ferret?” she drawled venomously.

“Listen,” he said ignoring the poison in her tone, “I can’t tell you everything right now, but I can tell you that this is no trick. Just trust me and stay away from him.”

“Trust you?!” she laughed incredulously, “Trust you?! I’ll do no such thing. In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t exactly on my ‘most trusted’ list. Besides that, I loathe you, why, in all that is magical, would I even think about trusting you?” she spat.

Draco pulled her body closer, something she thought impossible in the already too tight space. She felt her knees go weak at his grip.

“Loathe me, do you?” he asked huskily.

He ran a hand up the length of her body as he stared intently in her eyes. Hermione felt herself paralyzed with desire. All she could do was let out a small whimper. Her rational self pounded her brain.

This is wrong! It’s Draco Malfoy, our sworn enemy. He’s only--

Suddenly, she felt her lips being crushed by Draco’s luscious mouth. She melted into his demanding kiss as his tongue sought hers out. His taste was something she could only explain as addictive (something she would never admit it to him) and it sent heat straight her sweet spot. All coherent thought, rational or otherwise, became lost in the fog of lust.

He pushed her against the wall with his body and began to set a fiery trail of kisses along her throat. His hand softly kneaded her breast causing her head to fall back giving him more access. As if she had no control over her body, her leg wrapped around his.

“Your body doesn’t seem to loathe me,” he observed looking up from the cleft between her neck and shoulders.

His voice, though sexy it was, brought her rational side back. She pushed him from her.

“Hormones,” she gritted between gasps of breath, “any 17 year old boy could make my body react like that.”

Like a man possessed, Draco slammed her back into the wall, gripping her arms almost painfully. She grimaced and struggled to break free.

“No other male will ever touch you,” he snarled.

Buttons from her oxford flew through the air as he yanked at it trying to get in contact with more of her skin. He snatched her leg up and hooked around his waist. His hand brushed against her satin covered womanhood. Hermione shivered. Her panties were slick with her juices. He slipped his hand past the satin barrier and buried two fingers deep inside her. He sucked in a breath at the contact and began to explore her velvety heat.

She let out a breathy moan at the sensations his wildly pumping fingers were creating. Lost in her haze of lust, she did not even realize that she was pushing herself onto his hand trying to draw him deeper inside. He crooked his fingers and she began bucking.

“Say my name! I want you to admit that the person you loathe makes you feel like this,” he demanded.

“No,” she gasped stubbornly.

He increased his internal finger massage fiercely, adding a thumb to vigorously manipulate her clit. Her body ached with the need to release, but he held her off. She had been finger f**ked before, but never had she experienced these mind numbing sensations. Her body was responding to Draco as if he owned it.

“Say it!” he demanded again.

“Malfoy,” she sputtered in frustration.

He smirked at her defiance.

“That’s not the name I meant.”

He brought her to the edge once more, only to hold her off. He placed his mouth to her ear and licked the edge.

“Say. My. Name!” he growled thrusting his hips towards hers with each pump of his fingers, punctuating each word.

“Ddd-rr-aa-cc-o,” she hissed no longer able to hold on.

His fingers hit her most sensitive spot and her body exploded. The wave of orgasm made her body quiver so intensely that she had to grab onto Draco tighter for support.

Holding her firmly, he pulled his fingers from her and ground his erection against her stomach. Hermione was mewling from the aftershocks that were wracking her body. She opened her eyes to watch him stick his fingers in his mouth and lick them clean. Seeing that gave her a heated pride.

Suddenly, Draco’s body shook ferociously and his chest rumbled with a deep, animalistic roar. Hermione felt a wetness as he slumped against her. He continued to grip her snugly while mumbling incoherently. The only word she picked out--‘mine’--she was not sure if she truly heard.

The shuffling of feet brought the two out of their post-orgasmic cloud. With a quick ‘scourgify’ to them, Draco righted himself. He pulled her in for another fiery kiss. Hermione could taste herself on him, a new experience she thought would disgust her. Yet, she was wrong. If anything it turned her on and she returned the kiss with vigor.

Draco slowly pulled away, Hermione giving a soft groan in protest.

“I have been to Azakaban and I don’t fancy a home there. Stay away from Goldstein.”

With that he disappeared down the corridor, leaving a confused Head Girl in his wake. As the spell of Draco Malfoy disappeared, realization set in. She had just had her first orgasm, literally, by the hand of her archenemies. And he had pleasured her with such abandon that she was beginning to wonder if it was real or imagined. Then his parting words floated back to her.

~”Stay away from Goldstein.”~

Draco’s eyes had been so intense. She had never seen his eyes like that, not even when he blamed Harry for having his father locked away.

Now why would Draco Malfoy be concerned with whom I associate?

~End Flashback~

Hermione shook the memories from her mind only to discover the beginnings of a headache. With a languid stretch, she rose from her seat and collected her things. Ginny, who had lost interest in the chess game, looked up from her book.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to call it a night,” said Hermione tiredly.

“Are you alright,” inquired the redhead.

Ginny had noticed her friend’s eyes glazed over in thought and had not bothered her. However, the look on the brunette’s face lead her intuitive mind to believe that they were more than just thoughts tossing around Hermione’s mind.

“I’m fine, just a bit of a headache. Nothing a good night of rest won’t cure,” she said to Ginny.

“Alright then,” replied Ginny still feeling she was right.

“Goodnight, Ron, Harry,” called the brunette.

“Night, ‘Mione,” they spoke in unison never taking their eyes off the board.

As she made her way out of the Gryffindor portrait hole, her thoughts turned to Anthony. Since that night with Draco, she had inadvertently taken his advice and avoided the Head Boy. She was not doing it because the Slytherin had warned her. It was a chance for her to sort her feelings out for the Head Boy.

Anthony had taken the avoidance well. He seemed to respect Hermione’s space that she had established. However, after a prefect meeting she had seen a different side of the intelligent wizard.

~Flashback~

“You have been avoiding me,” Anthony’s deep voice rumbled.

He came to stand right behind Hermione. She moved an arms length away and faced him.

“That’s absurd,” she said as she continued in her cleaning.

“Absurd is it? Then why have you not allowed me to walk you to classes or meals or even the library?” he fired rapidly.

Her face contorted as she tried to think of a viable excuse.

“Well?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, Anthony. I’ve just needed some “me” time. Besides, I’m still trying to sort my feelings for you and I can’t very well do that if I am constantly around you,” she said logically.

He was quiet for a moment, looking at her intently. Then, without warning, he slammed his hands on the nearest desk causing Hermione to jump.

“You did not need to sort out your feeling when you were accepting my gifts!” he barked stepping closer to her.

“B-but I--,”

“And you certainly were not sorting your feelings out when you kissed me!” he continued still edging closer.

“Wait a minute,” she straightened her spine, “you kissed me.”

“I did not notice you resisting,” he said icily.

Hermione clamped her mouth shut. The truth was she had been so shocked at the kisses, that she had known how to react. She studied the furious wizard in front of her. Anthony was normally in control of his emotions, this was hardly like him. She looked into his bittersweet, chocolate eyes and was instantly chilled to the bone.

While his face was devoid of emotion, his eyes had a malicious glint to them. Anthony moved into her space causing her to back into the wall. He cupped her chin roughly, lifting her face towards his own.

“I will not be made a fool of, Kitten,” he said in a deadly calm voice.

He released his grip on her and stormed out of the Heads’ office. The breath, Hermione had not known she was holding, came out in choking sobs as tears streamed down her face. Her tears were from a veritable soup of emotions. She felt relief that nothing worse had happened, yet she feared what could have happened. Her blood boiled at the Head Boy’s audacity to speak to her in such a manner. Still, she was saddened at what she had evoked from him.

Reeling back her emotions, she wiped her tears from her eyes in disdain. She had let herself be surprised and threatened. How could she let that happen? She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her age. She of all people should have seen it coming.

Realizing she was once again being critical of herself, she gathered her things to return to her suite. Much to her chagrin, she noticed her path blocked by Malfoy. Before he could say anything, she snapped at him.

“Bugger off, Malfoy! I am in no mood for your torment.”

He leaned against the doorframe, still blocking her exit. He crossed one arm over his chest and examined the perfectly manicured hand of the other.

“You don’t listen very well. Do you?” he questioned casually.

“Why would Draco Malfoy be concerned with whom I associate?“ she questioned, her natural inquisitiveness taking over.

“ I have my reasons,” he said coolly.

“And what reasons would those be?”

“Nothing I care to discuss at the moment,” he stated.

“Well, since you refuse to tell me, I refuse to listen. Besides, considering the source it’s nothing but a trick, regardless of what you otherwise imply,” said remembering their previous conversation.

She attempted to push past him, but his lithe frame still proved strong enough to impede her.

“Granger, you have to trust me,” he implored.

“I believe we covered that the other night,” she said blandly.

“Yet, you trusted me enough to finger f**k you,” he said silkily moving closer to her.

Steeling her palpitating heart from his words, she defiantly stuck out her chin.

“Like I said before--hormones. Now get out of my way before I make certain body parts unidentifiable,” she said sweetly.

Cringing at the thought, Malfoy stepped aside, but grabbed Hermione’s arm before she walked out.

“This is no joke, Granger. Stay away from Goldstein or else I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

Her temper flared at his words.

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” she barked, mentally reminding herself to apply the same advice to Anthony.

She yanked her arm out of his grasp and stomped down the corridor.

~End Flashback~[/b]

The portrait of Godric Gryffindor was impatiently drumming his fingers along his arm. Rarely did he get upset, except when his sleep was disturbed for nonsense, which apparently was the case at the moment. In front of him stood the Head Girl with a vacant expression on her face.

“Young lady! Password, please! Some of us would like to go to bed,” he said cantankerously.

Oh, sorry. Parilitas.”

The portrait swung open and she entered the suite, unaware of the figure that loomed in the shadows.


SO.....who do you think it is?