Dance with the One that Brought You

Chapter 6 - Lust

“That was bloody brilliant!” laughed Blaise uncontrollably.

Glancing sideways at his best mate, Draco still had a menacing smile pasted on his face as they made their way to the hospital wing.

“Yeah well, it’s about time someone put that mudblood in her place.” He congratulated himself. “She’s had that coming for a year now.”

Blaise knew exactly what Draco was referring to, since Goyle and Crabbe had informed him about how Hermione Granger had punched Malfoy in the face last year. Of course they had told him when Draco wasn’t around, fearing his repercussions if they'd talked about it in his presence.

Blaise was actually tearing up, he was laughing so hard. “Did... Did... you ... see... the look on her face?” He leaned his arm on Draco’s shoulder. “I mean when Snape told her... “

He couldn’t finish because he was having a laughing fit.

“Gods, Snape is priceless!” Draco agreed, “telling her that he didn’t see a difference!” Draco had never felt more proud of his godfather. Of course the hex he had thrown from his wand was meant for bloody Potthead, but both Potter’s and Draco’s spells had missed their targets, hitting Granger and Goyle instead.

Snape had sent Goyle to see Madame Pomfrey for the boils that instantly appeared on his face, but when Granger’s teeth grew downward and extended past her chin, Snape didn’t even blink an eye!

He recalled her running away in tears after Snape had told her there was no difference and something in Draco's stomach turned upside down. Even so, he had laughed at the results of the hex. Merlin, she'd looked like an overgrown beaver! It wasn't the first time he had laughed inappropriately.

That would teach Granger to underestimate him! She would think twice now before ignoring him or thinking that she was on the same level as he. Sure, she was book-smart, but after reading every bloody book in the school library during her free time, who wouldn’t be? She really wasn’t that great a witch. She was a show off. A know-it-all... she and Saint Potter were perfect for each other. So why was there something nagging at him in his gut?

As Blaise and Draco entered the hospital wing, the first thing he noticed was the disgusting display of the golden duo. Potter sat on her hospital bed, hugging her close to him, stroking her hair, and whispering into her ear. Disgusting! She was sniffling and nodding her head when he would whisper to her and she clutched his back.

Madame Pomfrey rushed over to Draco and Blaise with a tray of bottles, and her wand. “Boys, you can’t be in here now. We’ve a procedure to conduct here-- mending hexes that should never have let fly in the first place.” She looked scornfully at Draco who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Goyle,” was all he was able to say before she started pushing them from the room.

“He’s already been administered a remedy spell, Mr. Malfoy. You and Mr. Zabini should find him in your common room.”

Blaise looked over her shoulder, as she pushed them out, he said, “If we bring carrots next time, can we stay?” Draco laughed at his best friend’s joke, watching Harry’s back stiffen as he threw his head up and looked in their direction. If his eyes alone could send hexes, Draco knew both he and Blaise would be recipients of an Unforgivable curse.

“Later, Malfoy,” he threatened. “I promise you!” He held Hermione closer, making sure he kept her face buried into the crook of his neck so that they couldn’t actually see her or her monstrous teeth. He placed a kiss in her hair as Hermione let out another sob, whispering to her, comforting her, stroking her.

Draco spun around, leaving Blaise behind, as his robes billowed behind him.

“What’s the hurry, mate?” Blaise called after him.

“The sooner I get away from ... them, the better.”

He should have guessed that Potter would be there. Of course he would. After all they must be an item, always together, always fawning over each other. Always clutching at each other. Pathetic!

Still, he felt a small compulsion urging him to see Hermione alone. He felt maybe he should explain. It wouldn't be an apology, mind you, because Merlin knew he wasn’t ever going to apologize for something that wasn’t even his fault! It’s not like he'd meant to hex her. But some small part of him wanted to let her know that it wasn’t intentional. However, the voice of reason told him to stay as far away from Hermione Granger as possible.

What would he say to her? Say Granger, about those rabbit teeth of yours, on the up side, you’ll be able to open tins much more easily now.

Maybe he would look for her this afternoon, after classes. He knew her destination. She’d always be in the library; she was so predictable. Every afternoon she rushed off to the library. Perhaps it was because she knew Harry would be working on his Triwizard tasks, or perhaps it was to work on her convoluted “Free the Elves” movement that he had heard about. Either way, he knew where to find her: either in the library after classes or dinner. She practically lived there.

----o-----o-----o-----o

Hermione had been traumatized. She hated Malfoy! She knew the whole school probably had heard from the Slytherins what had happened to her. He was such a tosser!

She felt a familiar squeeze on her shoulder, and placed her hand over the large, strong hand. He had come for her again, as he did every day this week. Mostly he just sat next to her, while they read. He liked sitting close to her. Before they’d leave, he would pull her off into a secluded stack and gently kiss her. He never overstepped any boundaries. He was a gentleman. A strong, strapping man that wanted to be with her. She didn’t really have much in common with him, other than the fact that he was satisfied to just be with her.

“Hermyninny, you come.”

She wondered if Viktor had heard about the hexing today, but decided to go with him regardless.

He clasped her hand, and led her into a quieter, more secluded section of the stacks, and then he leaned her up against the wall. “You are ok?” he whispered.

She nodded and smiled back at him. Viktor was a quiet man. She didn’t understand how someone so gentle and solemn could be such a fierce Quidditch player, world-renowned Seeker.

He brought her chin up with one of his large hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I give something to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out several beautiful golden and silver ribbons, each with a medal of some sort on the end. She looked down at them and picked one up; it sparkled and shone and even in the dimly lit library, she could read the words, ‘World Cup Champion.’

“Oh Viktor!” She shook her head. “I can’t... these are... these are too precious.”

He placed them all in her hand, and smiled at her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “Not as precious as my Hermyninny. Nothing is more precious. You are most important to me. Please, you accept these for your books.”

“I can’t, Viktor.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “You use these when you read. You think of me when I am not by your side.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, her nose, her other cheek, showering gentle kisses on her face, and then took it in his hands, and kissed her full on the mouth. It was a long kiss, the longest kiss she had received from him. She closed her eyes, and felt a warmth wash over her. He patiently nibbled at her lips, asking them for permission, and she merely responded by returning his kiss.

He finally broke the lock he had on her lips, his eyes had darkened and his breathing had gotten heavier.

She still had her eyes closed. She didn’t want to open them. This moment washed away any ugliness that she'd felt before; at this very moment she was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. Viktor Krum had just told her she was the most important thing in his life! More important than Quidditch! Her chest rose and fell, as she tried to remember to breathe.

He bent down and nuzzled her ear, kissing her ear lobe, tugging on it gently with his teeth. Hermione let out a soft moan from her throat, spurring Viktor to sprinkle kisses down her neck. Her breathing was staggered, and she clutched his back, as her knees buckled beneath her. Holy mother of Merlin!

She felt a burning on her neck, where it joined her collarbone, leaned back her head and brought her hands up to Viktor’s hair, pulling gently on it. She had to stop him... she couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t breathe!

She didn't even hear the mewling sound coming from her own throat, but she did feel dizzy and knew she was about to pass out. Her legs had given out, and Viktor held her up by the sheer strength of his own muscle.

“Viktor...”

He reluctantly broke the suction from her neck, and took in her radiance as her head rolled back.

“What was that?”

He smiled and gave her time to recover. He hadn’t intended for things to move this fast, but she was so vulnerable-looking, and he knew she had been hurt earlier. He wanted her to know how much she mattered him. This was his way of showing her.

----o-----o-----o-----o

Draco had seen her messenger bag at the usual table. She was probably perusing the stacks for more books. She and those damned books!

He walked past her table and down the stacks. He walked slowly, not wanting to frighten her. He didn’t want her to scream, or make a scene. He would merely tell her what he had intended to say.

An odd sort of disappointment was heavy in his chest. He didn’t know why he felt the way he did, but he knew once he explained, he would feel better.

He walked carefully, feeling as if he were trespassing on her.

Then he heard whispers. It was two voices, rising lightly from the corner. He approached cautiously.

“I can’t, Viktor.”

“Please,” he pleaded, “You use these when you read. You think of me when I am not by your side.”

Draco froze in place.

He recognized the voices. It was the Bulgarian pureblood with the Gryffindor Princess!

Then he heard a peculiar, soft sound... like the first bite into an overripe fruit. Uncomprehending, Draco dared to peek his head around the stack. Heat suffused his face at what he saw. Krum held Hermione, slanting his lips tenderly over her mouth. Her hands hung uncurled at her side, but as the kisses continued, they lifted to clutch his back.

He watched silently, as Viktor and Hermione came together, taking each other’s breaths away. He watched unashamed as a fire burned low in his body. He had not truly seen the beauty of Hermione Granger until this moment, and now, watching her being stroked and caressed made Draco fear he was becoming lost in an obsession.

Shaken, he slid his head down, backing into the stacks, unseen by the two as they kissed. Draco wanted to clench his eyes shut as their murmurs and her soft moan drifted over him. Her pain had been his responsibility. So he forced himself to remain, listening to them breathing.

“Viktor.... what was that?”

She had been kissed senseless. Not by Potter, but by this Bulgarian Triwizard Champion. Draco wanted to rip his own ears from his head.

It was only hours ago that she was in Potter’s arms. And now Krum. She had everyone hoodwinked. Fool that he was, he thought her to be innocent of such carnal pleasures... it was the greatest falsehood Hermione Granger could have bestowed.

----o-----o-----o-----o

He glanced at her while they ate dinner, knowing he would approach her tonight. He had needs that he would make sure she would attend to. He would not let her deny him. He would be sated.

When he saw her rise from the table he followed her quietly, ignoring Blaise’s questioning glance at his early departure from dinner.

As they approached a closet door, Draco vaulted forward, frantic to have her.

He ached as he pushed her quickly into the closet, closing the door behind them, muttering a silencing spell with his wand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He closed the space between them, uncaring of her sudden jump of surprise. Facing her, he fiercely claimed her mouth, breaking her once-peaceful features. His anger over all that had occurred today was felt in his touch, as he ungently grabbed her arms. A groan lodged in his throat as he forced her mouth open and plunged his tongue into hers.

He was infused with strength, longing and heat.

She groaned against him, pushing at his shoulders, as if ashamed to be touched. Draco refused her, holding her closer to him, remembering the scene from the library.

“I know you want this,” he finally breathed harshly. “Whether you admit it or not.”

At fifteen he wasn’t as skilled as an eighteen year old would be, but Draco had kissed before, and often.

“Tonight is your lucky night,” he continued.

He kissed his way down the arch of her throat, and then unbuttoned her blouse. She attempted to grasp his hands, but he shook his head warily at her. He made quick work of the buttons, opening her to him. His eyes took her in, and he closed his teeth on her breast. She sucked in a hiss and her slender fingers clenched in his hair.

“You will not stop me,” he promised.

Down her stiff, trembling body he went, dragging his lips and tongue over her flesh. She no longer fought him. She held his head helplessly as he kissed his way back up to her other breast and pushing aside her bra, he sucked.

She cried out, a different sound that what she had voiced before. It was a cry of surrender, of need.

He kissed her fully on the mouth and then urged her head lower. She complied by kissing his neck, opening his shirt, and kissing his chest, copying what he had done by taking a nipple into her teeth and sucking hard.

Gods! He clenched his hands in her hair and pushed her head lower down his abdomen guiding her slowly to her knees.

He quickly wrestled with his own trousers, unzipping them, pushing them down.

“What are you doing?” she panted. “Why are you doing this... I .... I don’t know how.”

He couldn’t give voice to his intentions. He knew what he expected. She knew too.

“Open your mouth,” he barely managed to whisper.

She quivered against him.

“Take me in your mouth, dammit!”

She reached up, shaking, and slowly took him in her mouth. She was right. She had never done this before. He reached down and stroked himself slowly, showing her what to do with her hands.

He didn't last long.

He hung his head down as he helped her back up to her feet, and zipped up his trousers, not bothering to help her with her buttons.

“Do you love me?” she whispered.

“Don’t confuse lust with love, Parkinson.” He left her alone in the closet and returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling quite proud that he had just received his first blow job.