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I sat poised on the edge of the grandiose four poster bed, unable to keep my limbs from trembling. I shouldnt be here. I was ashamed of myself for letting my emotions get the better of me. I had used deception to the best of my ability, which is vast, I will admit. I'd told Harry and Ron that I was visiting my Muggle grandmother in Surrey. She had acquired cancer of the throat and was slowly and painfully leaving the world. I told them that my parents had insisted upon it and, not having the bravado to refuse, I had apparated to Surrey before either of them could breathe a word of disapproval.
Well, here I was; far from Surrey, far from the previous home of my long-deceased grandmother, resting upon sheets of black satin. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had adorned myself in a suggestive, but not too scant dress of black velvet. The soft fabric clung to my shivering skin, making me feel all the more vulnerable. Determined to make the desired impression, I had fought the urge to sew up the generous slits that revealed far too much of my thighs. Why am I doing this? And the answer came to me, suddenly, shamefully. Because I want to. The thought disgusted me.
It had been nearly a month ago since he had come to Hogwarts. Visiting his precious son, his precious Draco, passing on to him the mask of death and terror. The smug seventh year was positively glowing all week. The whole family had sickened me up to that point. Until...
I had been in the Restricted Section of the library, looking for a book on fatal poisons for Professor Snape's class. Damn man was even more insufferable since hed resumed spying for Dumbledore. The telltale creases on his pale face, though, told me that the undue stress of constantly risking his life was slowly and surely killing him. I felt no hatred for Severus Snape.
I was thumbing through the pages of several Dark Arts volumes, pausing to wince at the grotesque depictions of various torture methods. I was focusing on a particularly obscene illustration of sexual torment, when a low, mocking voice hissed in my ear.
"Interesting reading material for the prized Head Girl, is it not?"
I whirled around and came face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy, Draco's arrogant, aristocratic, evil father. This was only the second time I had personally encountered him. Upon our first meeting, I had been a mere child of twelve, seeing him only as the parent of my most loathed enemy. To the eyes of a mature seventeen-year-old, however, he took on a slightly different appearance. For all his coldness, he was quite an attractive individual. His platinum locks were long and unbound, reminding me slightly of a nefarious Greco-Roman god. He was tall and stately, his very posture emanating regal beauty. And his eyes...icy and gray...subtly suggestive in every imaginable way. I suddenly found myself enamored of the very advocate of that which I detested most. He snatched the volume from my hand, turning each page nonchalantly, examining the graphic portraits of sadistic eroticism. An amused grin began to twist his lips as he studied the pictures. I stared anxiously at the floor, anticipating the cold mocking that would follow. Instead, he raised his icy gray eyes, appraising me slowly with a look of interest.
Such intriguing dark corners we all have, my dear, he mused, moving closer to me. His eyes traveled slowly over my sparsely clothed form. It had been nearly May, and, celebrating the nouveau feeling of warm sunlight on my bare skin, I had seen fit to clothe myself in a light, quite revealing sundress. I felt the colour rise in my cheeks. I was suddenly aware of his cold, cold hand on my bare arm. "Perhaps you would like to learn more."
My heart raced. He was making me an invitation. The Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, top of her class, lured into the bed of Lucius Malfoy. Disgusting. Dangerous. Alluring. Enticing. Downright irresistible. I felt the heat rising between my legs at the thought of his cold hands caressing my virgin skin, his icy digits probing my most intimate places. I suddenly found myself replying boldly to his offer.
"And who would I have to teach me?" I asked, feigning innocence. "I am always eager to learn new things."
"Quite obviously so," he breathed, drawing so close to me that I could feel the enticing heat of his breathing on my neck. "But you are so different, Miss Granger, than the last time we met."
I tensed. He remembered me. Foolhardy, stubborn, second year me. I had scoffed at him, written him up as a cold-blooded villain. And I made quite sure he had known that. This was all a joke, a cruel, sick joke to make me feel inferior once again. I felt a lump rising in my throat.
"You are no longer a child," he remarked softly, his hand travelling up my arm, stroking the milky skin of my shoulder, and came to rest on my bare throat. "You have become very much a woman since I have last seen you. And, apparently, your mind has matured as well. I can offer you secret knowledge beyond anything that you could ever imagine." His fingers now toyed gently with my hair. "I've been watching you, Hermione." (I shivered as he spoke my name) "Yes, you have become quite of interest to me. Draco has told me of your endeavors, as has my good friend Severus Snape. He seems very impressed with you indeed. But, in many things, I know, you still remain innocent. You have the appearance of a woman, but not the experience. I can give that to you, my dear. All you must do is ask for it."
My head swam. He'd been watching me? How? When? This was the first time I'd ever seen him in the school building in almost five years. Certainly he hadnt been keeping tabs on me since then. It was all far too much for me to process. I left the library sick with guilt at what I had just agreed to. He had told me to owl him if I ever felt the need to learn more and I had told him that I would as soon as I was able. When I returned to the common room I vowed that I would never take him up on his filthy, but alluring offer.
But here I was, half-naked and trembling on the edge of his bed, ready to let myself be deflowered by the body of a killer. I wiped my sweating palms on the scant fabric of my dress. I am ready for this. My blood froze at the sound of footsteps. He appeared at the door, outfitted in elaborate black silk, his flaxen hair tied up neatly with a black ribbon. The very sight of him would've taken my breath had I not been so unbearably nervous.
"So," he drawled, "You've finally decided to accept my offer."
I nodded, trying to appear half as aloof as he. I was failing miserably. He walked over to me, standing directly in front of my prone figure.
"I knew you would come to your senses," he whispered in my ear. His hands traced down the outside of my arms, letting his fingers entertwine with mine before shoving me roughly beckward onto the bed. He was suddenly on top of me and I felt the heat of his body against my own. My tension was beginning to alleviate.
"So," he mused. "Where shall we begin, my dear?" His fingers traced over my lips, feeling the smooth curve of my mouth. I closed my lips around his forefinger, sucking it gently for a few seconds before he pulled it away.
"So eager," he mocked. "But experience will teach you."
His mouth met my own, surprisingly warm and inviting. I savored the kiss, parting my lips slightly to allow his tongue to gently explore my mouth. His lips left mine and trailed down my neck, leaving a burning trail on my enflamed skin. His hands found my wrists, pinning me down as he sat upright. I struggled, missing the feel of his lips on my flesh, but he only laughed.
"Obedience, my dear. The first important lesson you must adhere to. You must learn to obey your master, and I, my dear, am your master this evening." I made a small whimpering noise, but he ignored me. Rising to his feet, he beckoned me up off of the bed.
Strip, he order, brandishing the black snake-headed cane that was his trademark. Hesitantly, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, letting it fall to the floor. I had purposely forgotten undergarments in order to make the process less complicated. I stood naked before him, feeling the blush extend to my whole body. He gave me an appraising look, a smile forming on his lips. Good. Luckily, he liked what he saw.
So beautiful, he purred, brushing the cold metal against my bare skin. His hands teased me, running along the inside of my thighs and the gentle swell of my breasts, being careful not to touch the places that I so wanted him to. I let out another whimper. The moisture between my legs was growing with every soft caress. I bit my lip, refusing to cry out.
Finally, his finger brushed the peak of breast, grazing over the rigid pink nipples ever so softly. Unable to hold it in any longer, I moaned softly. I was suddenly aware of the pressure of his hardness against my thigh. So hes not so cold after all. He kissed my hungrily, drawing blood from my lower lip. The bitter taste of copper filled my mouth. His hand ventured down my stomach, playing with the soft curls of my mound. Gently, he ran his finger along my wetness, delving inside of me for a brief moment. I drew my arms up around his waist, squeezing tight. His finger flicked the center of my pleasure for fleeting second. I moaned against his mouth. Violently, he pushed me back down on the bed. He discarded his own garments, revealing the pale, sculpted of a divine creature. His arousal was quite evident.
He positioned himself firmly on top of me, his throbbing erection teasing my opening.
"Is this what you want?" he breathed heavily. I was glad to hear the desire so apparent in his voice.
"Yes," I whispered, my reply coming out in ragged gasp.
"Very well then."
He plunged violently into me, making me scream as I felt the membranes tear. Pain and pleasure were melding into one glorious sensation. He began to move in and out of me, first slowly and gently. Gradually, his thrusts became quicker and rougher, his face reddening with pleasure and exertion. My hands found his silky blond hair, clutching it firmly as he plunged deeper inside of me. He moaned as I pulled his hair, his thrusts becoming frantic. I was on the very edge of climax when he pulled out of me.
"No!" I almost screamed. My body was wracked with desire. This was, indeed, the cruelest form of torture I'd yet known.
"Patience, my dear, patience. You must first do something for me." He stood at the edge of the bed, yanking me over to him by the hair. "Now, lets give you a true lesson in obedience."
He guided my head towards his groin. Slowly, I took his throbbing member into my mouth. He grunted softly at the contact. I ran my tongue up and down the sides of his shaft, circling the head softly. I took all of him into my mouth and sucked gently, my fingers finding his testicles and stroking softly. He moaned loudly this time, his hands clenching my hair, pushing me even further. I began to suck harder, feeling him tremble. I could feel that he was on the verge of release. Surprisingly, he guided my head away and pushed me back down into a reclining position.
"That's more like it. Very obedient....good girl."
He resumed his position on top of me, kissing my mouth hard. Without warning, he pushed into me once more. He thrust in and out violently and I felt myself building up to climax. Everything inside of me seemed to explode into the most pleasurable sensation I had ever felt. I moaned, not caring who heard, and my body went limp. A few moments later, he cried out as he spilled his seed into me. Exhausted, he collapsed on top of me.
I drifted off into a restless slumber, awaking to find myself shivering and alone in the vast and unfamiliar room. Shrill screams penetrated the thick night air. I shouldn't be here now...I thought to myself, fumbling in the darkness to find my discarded garments. Suddenly, the door flung open and light poured into the black room. My blood froze as I met the scrutinous gaze of Draco Malfoy...
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