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Hunter and Prey	By : Wolfling1972 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, that belongs solely to JK Rowling, neither am I making money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Hunter and Prey
- 1
He'd stalked her.
For months.
Searched her out and watched, waited, plotted, contemplated. He hadn't warned her. He wouldn't tell her. He just waited for the day that she would be alone, unaware and ripe for the taking. He could smell her, he'd know when her body was at it's most receptive. To get to her before that would ruin his chance at keeping her.
Of claiming her.
That idea could not be born.
He understood that their shared past would make her run from him, from this. She'd felt the pull. He knew she did. He could smell it on her every time he near, arousal, thick, sweet, rich like golden honey, molasses. Yet, she always turned away after staring at him blankly. Practically ran in the opposite direction as soon as she saw the gleam in his silvered gaze. But he could taste her on his tongue, could feel her against him even from across the room. He knew that for him, there would be no other.
That did not mean he didn't try.
Oh, but he did.
Countless witches fell beneath his hands, his tongue, his cock and it did not matter. He made them cry out, plead, beg, come on command but it made no difference. He could beat them, maul their pretty little cunts until they bled, have them say his name like a prayer, a curse, a litany. Did not matter a bit because they were not her. Not even close.
He'd fucked her friend, the redhead. Made the bitch collapse from the agony of her orgasms as she squirmed and writhed beneath his frenzied assault. Fixed nothing. He'd had the stupid blonde, the one that Greyback had killed after destroying her face and her body. He'd bent that whore over and shagged her arse so hard that the girl had run from him. Of course, she'd come back but he was uninterested. He'd taken those twins, the Patil sisters, one after the other, then together, either girl on his face or his dick, all three holes his to explore.
None of them equaled what he imagined he'd get from her. Her scent, her taste, her moans and whimpers and screams, and squeals. None of them were Granger. None of them were fit to be more than the holes he used to slake his lust while he waited for the ultimate prize, the perfect woman, his fated one.
Mate.
His wolf knew it before he did. Knew it before the end of their fifth year after he'd been attacked by Greyback for his father's failure to procure some cursed prophecy from the Ministry of Magic. He'd known it as soon as he caught her scent at the beginning of the sixth year. Knew it when she was caught and brought to the manor. Knew it as his Aunt cut into her flesh and Crucio'd her until she screamed and fainted and bled.
That had been the worst, the absolute worst because she was his to harm and his to protect and he could not do either without giving into the beast he'd become. He'd been forced to watch; hungry and horny, the need in his bones riding him like some sort of Dementor while he waited for her after the battle, once The Dark Lord had died, once the war was finished.
And now, it was their eighth year and he was once again following her scent and dreaming of her above him, below him, around him; her cunt wide open as he tore into her throat and claimed her, her plump arse in the air as he took her and took her and took her. It would be heaven, bliss, bloody but brilliant. Once he was mated to her? No other male would compare, she'd carry no pups but his, want no cock but his.
Or he'd kill her.
Fuck her, bite and kill her.
Ravage that beautiful almond shaded flesh, rip out handfuls of that bushy, curled mass she called hair. Pluck out those topaz colored eyes and suck them down like grapes. Bathe in her blood, rub it into his skin so that he was surrounded by her scent, work it into his flesh so that she was a part of him. Always.
But that would not need to happen because she would accept him. She wanted him and that was just as it should be.
So he would wait and watch.
________________________________________________________________________________
Hermione's partner was late for patrol. It was unusual enough that she'd begun to worry. Ernie McMIllan never blew off a chance to walk and talk, especially not with her. She'd though that he'd had a crush on her but he had never brought up and she was loathe do so. After all, she'd just gotten out of a relationship, a rather shitty one at that. No, no crushes. She didn't want anything to do with any of that.
Suddenly she felt a prickle of unease coupled with a rush of desire. She didn't understand why those two things seemed to go together when it came to a certain Slytherin but by that feeling, she knew who was coming for her, no, not for her...to her. Draco Malfoy. She'd felt this way every time she saw him, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts at the end of what should have been her seventh year. She didn't understand it and because she didn't understand it, the tumultuous feelings kept her on edge and caused her to be wary of the man.
It didn't matter. He didn't know.
"Granger. McMillan had an accident. Since I was next on the rotation, I've come to replace him," he explained in a low growl, his voice roughened, like a velvety sandpaper.
Hermione gave a nod and turned away, her small feet leading her away from him and the rush of fear he'd engendered by his very presence alone. She could feel him behind her, watching her, studying her, his steps silent yet steady as if he were a cat, a wolf, and she was a mouse, prey. A shiver ran up her spine but she fought it down. He was not worth her fear.
It was only Malfoy! Who cared if she'd noticed that he'd changed between fifth and sixth year? He was still the coward who'd made it possible for Death Eaters to invade her second home, still had tried to kill Dumbledore. He was nothing, nobody.

'Well he used to be but now he's dangerous,' she thought. 'I don't know how I know, I just know.'
The pair had stepped outside to walk the grounds. It was her idea that they should split up but, of course, Malfoy hadn't wanted to hear it. He said they should stay together, that it was late and dark but his voice hadn't sounded quite right, had an air of menace. She tried to convince herself that she'd imagined it but knew that wasn't the truth. She had heard it and it scared her but she had no recourse but to go along with the assertion.
It was late. It was dark. Yet, she truly believed that the only harm that would come for her would come from him.
As for the man in question? He breathed in her fear and adjusted his erection for the fifth time in as many minutes. Soon, they would have to walk down toward the pitch where darkness reigned, where shadows were thick on the ground, where she could scream and absolutely no-one would hear. Where he could take her, claim her, bite her until blood flowed. Claim his mate, mother of his pups. Only his as she would be ruined for anyone else.
He would destroy her.
The thought made him smile and salivate.
As the pair meandered toward the Quidditch field, Hermione began to shake, small tremors. Fear lay thick within her and desire roiled through her in equal measure. She knew he would do something, the gooseflesh riding her skin only underlined her thoughts, proved it in a way that nothing else could. She didn't know when he would attack. She only knew that he would.
It was when they walked near the Slytherin locker room that she felt his strong grip on her left wrist. Her heart stuttered and then began to pound, especially when he pulled her off balance and forced her to face him. It was his eyes that caught her attention first. They were a bright golden gleam and his teeth, oh his teeth. They looked sharp, so sharp, and brightest white. The smirk he habitually wore had shifted to a full-fledged smile but it wasn't a good thing. No, not a good thing at all. In fact, she was terrified.
"M-Malfoy, wha-," she stuttered out but he didn't allow her to finish as his mouth crashed down to devour her own.
She felt teeth dig into her bottom lip, nipping and then biting, hard enough to draw blood and then his tongue, licking the noisome fluid away before that agile muscle invaded her mouth, sweeping past her teeth like some sort of conquering horde. Hermione struggled against the kiss, against him, but it accomplished nothing. In fact, it only seemed to arouse and amuse him in equal measure as she felt his smile and his hardness.
At this point, her wrists were captured by one of his calloused hands so that they were held above her head and pressed flat to the wall behind her, high enough that she was on tiptoe to prevent further strain on her shoulders. She knew that he could easily overwhelm her and the way he'd positioned himself, using his knee to pry her thighs apart so that he could slip between them, meant that she couldn't knee him or fight him off and so, she stopped fighting.
Not because she enjoyed what he was doing, not even because she was terrified~ though the truth was she felt a bit of both things~ but because she'd decided that allowing him any sort of reaction was not only stupid but detrimental. She would have stayed there, unresponsive, stock still, but he would not allow it. He was not about to be shut out by her massive brain, by her unwillingness to bend.
For a long moment, his anger outweighed his need to claim her...or maybe it coincided but whatever it was, Hermione didn't have a chance to defend herself against the backhanded slap he dealt to her face. In fact, he hit her so hard that her face whipped into the wall and knocked her for a loop. She grew dizzy. Faint. Breathless. More terrified.
"Don't try to shut me out, Hermione. You won't like what happens," he growled.
"I already don't like what happening, Malfoy," she managed to sputter out through tears and a raging headache.
"I could make it good for you. I won't but I could." That was his only response but it was enough to add more fuel to the raging fire of her terror.
"What do you want?"
"You. I've been waiting a long time to have you." His smirk was pure evil.
"Since our sixth year?"
He blinked and released her, stepped back so that there was space between them. He hadn't expected her to pinpoint when he had changed, but she had. He didn't even know how to go about disabusing her of that knowledge. However, the more he thought on it, the more he wondered what he'd done to give it away.
Hermione watched his expression, the way his eyes faded from brightest gold down to a clear pewter, the slight frown, the way his hair fell forward over his left eye. Her eyes traveled south along his tall frame and she saw the muscle in his jaw which clenched and released, the tightening of his hands which balled into large fists, the way his body seemed to be thrumming with tension.
"How'd you know," Draco enquired, his voice soft, no longer tight with repressed rage.
"Your scent, I think? My reaction to you," She thought about it for long minutes. "I always knew where you were in relation to me after we came back for our sixth year. Before, you didn't quite register, not unless you forced the issue but after school started that year? I felt you and you were wrong. I was drawn to you but it was not natural, I don't think." A pause. "Are you a werewolf?"
"Turned in the summer between fifth and sixth year after my father failed in his task at the Ministry. I was his punishment though I am still not sure how turning me into this was a fitting punishment for HIS mistake."
"So, then what is it you really want Malfoy?"
He growled, something low and deadly. "I've already answered that question. YOU. I want you. Your scent," Another growl and the muscle in his furiously working jaw, jumped. "Makes me hungry and hard. Are you my mate? My wolf thinks so. I think so. The plan was to take you, give you no choice." He stepped closer. "I still think that particular plan has its merits."
Hermione tried to fade into the wall behind her as she saw his eyes flare golden, once more. The pain in her face decided to return with a decidedly heavy thump, one that matched her heartbeat. She wanted to run. She needed to run but she knew if she so much as moved, he'd be on her before she could take one step and so she stayed, her heart hammering as fast as a hummingbird's wings.
"Run, little girl."
She shook her head.
"Run," he reiterated. "Otherwise you won't have a chance."
A smart witch would have fled toward the castle. A smarter witch would have stayed right where she was but Hermione was the most brilliant witch of her age and so she slipped sideways, her back pressed against the wall until she got to the depression which announced the locker room's door...and then she opened it and stepped inside. How was that brilliant? If she ran or stayed? He'd take her. He'd hurt her and possibly lose control. If she set the pace, she could control it, control him. Ultimately, it was the only thing she could do.
Draco watched her as she slipped away, standing there for a few moments as he tried to decide just what he should do. Finally, his indecision broke and he strode forward and opened the door with a loud bang. He paused at the sight that greeted him. Granger was bared to his gaze, her hands by her sides, her face flushed with color.
He stopped cold, seeing her flesh in all its glory under the harsh light of the locker room. She was petite with an exquisitely small waist and hips that belled out in perfect curves giving her the appearance of a miniature hourglass. Her legs were well muscled and her stomach was flat with a line which ran straight down the middle. She was almost perfectly proportioned if one forgave the fact that she wasn't that busty but he found that it did not matter.
He stalked forward as his eyes feasted upon her proffered skin. When he was no more than a few inches away, he stopped.
"Why?"
"If I ran, you'd catch me. If I stayed in that same position, you'd hurt me. This way, I control it. I choose. I don't want to be marked by you but I can't stop you if your wolf says this is what you need. What I can do is tell you that if you ever hit me again, I will make you beg for death."
Hermione spoke with no inflection, a flat factual sound, words of utter finality. She did not care that he could kill her, she did not care that he was bigger, stronger, agiler. What she cared about was that he had tried to take by force and that he had hit her. Yes, she was still terrified. No, she had not planned on this particular patrol ending here but there was no way she would meet Malfoy as less than an equal.
Draco nodded and studied her. She had judged her earlier chances correctly and no matter what he'd thought about the entire situation, he could not deny that by doing what she'd done, they were more equal, not completely, but more than before. With that thought, he moved away to shrug off his robe and place it on one of the hooks that usually held towels. He then toed off his shoes before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt and slipping that from his shoulders. He paused and stared at her.
________________________________________________________________________________
Hermione watched as he divested himself of clothing. His frame was long, lean and more muscled than she would have believed had she not seen it for herself. He was all whipcord strength and wiry with it. The flesh of his stomach was ridged with muscle that vee'd down into the dress slacks he wore. She glanced up, taking in the surprising breadth of his shoulders and the way his white-blond hair brushed them, fine as corn silk. Had he not been watching, waiting, for her reaction, he might have missed the lust which flared in her wide, whiskey-colored gaze. Even if he had missed it, her scent was impossible to ignore.
She smelled delicious.
However, at that moment his wolf stepped back and he focused on her in a way that was wholly masculine and it was at that point that he spoke. "I apologize for how I came to you. It's been two years of wanting you, wanting to claim you. When you were captured and brought to my home? I knew then that you were mine. You can deny it if you want to, I don't mind but I believe that you know it's true." He paused. "You know that I have your wand, yes?"
Hermione nodded. "I knew you took it when you snatched my wrist. I felt the tug. You will return it when you have finished with me?"
Draco grinned but it did not put her at ease. "I will return it but I doubt that I will ever finish with you, Granger." He motioned to her and then pointed to a spot just before him. "Come here and kneel."
She moved with studied grace, her hips only giving the slightest of swings but it was of no concern as his gaze looked no further than her face. She tried to hold his gaze with her own but she couldn't, not once they flared to the wolf, the golden gleam bright. Once she reached him she stopped and dropped to her knees. She heard his groan, saw the slight tenting of his trousers as he began to harden.
"Remove my pants." His voice was staccato, rapping out his demand.
Within moments, she'd done as he said, sliding her hands along his thighs before moving inward to unbutton and unzip him, freeing the heavy weight of tumescent flesh. She pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, her palms pressing into the hard flesh of his thighs, over his knees, his shins until she reached his socks, taking them too. He stepped out and waited until she'd looked her fill until her gaze met his own. It was then that she tilted her head to the left, an offer of submission.
He growled.
"Don't tease witch. Lay back, hands above your head, legs spread." Again the demand.
She positioned herself as he'd asked but left her neck bared. If she offered, he could not take. If she offered, he would not hurt her, not more than his wolf could handle. It was then that she admitted to herself that she offered because something inside her had unfurled, had loosened. She gave him submission to see what he would do.
Draco knelt between her spread thighs before coming down, his weight resting upon his forearms. With soft kisses, he captured her mouth and slid his tongue between her teeth and into the warmth that waited there. The kiss was gentle, his hands were not. They gripped her hips, hard enough to bruise, his nails scored her flesh and she gasped. He broke the kiss and moved to her throat and the pulse that beat a rapid tattoo just under the faint layer of skin, skin that smelled of musk and honey.
His teeth alighted there and nibbled, softly and then harder, until he began to suck, marking the flesh with reddened bruises. He did not bite, did not break the skin. She felt him shift and another gasp broke from her parted lips as he took one nipple into his mouth and suckled there, harder than she'd believed. She could feel that bit of flesh as it hardened beneath his ministrations, could feel a rush of wetness seep from her core, coating his length.
He moaned softly and switched side, laving her flesh with a will. It was at that point that she realized she was writhing beneath him, creating friction where there hadn't been any before as his slick length rubbed between her sodden folds. He drifted further south, biting, nibbling, tweaking, scratching, and marking her flesh so that she would know he'd taken her, on a dirty floor, and burn for him.
Once he reached the juncture of her thighs, he paused to inhale her scent, her essence. His tongue flicked out, spearing between her plump and heated nether lips, lapping at her juices before slipping upward to circle her clitoris. Her hips jerked upward in response and he laughed, low, dirty, masculine. One finger slipped inside her core, twisting and then turning upward to drag his nail along the spongy flesh he'd found there, starting a come-hither gesture in time with the suckling and nibbling, the flicking and licking.
She spasmed, her tight walls gripping his finger as more wetness rushed out to pool beneath her. As soon as her release eased, he barked a command, "Hands and knees, Hermione."
She moved, her bum cocked slightly as she allowed herself to get into position, body taut, thrumming with energy that she hadn't caused. Again he tasted her, lapping at her slit as if she was the finest dessert he'd ever tasted. She could do naught but cry out, whimper, plead with him.
He rose to his haunches and lined up the heaviness which jutted from his groin, long, thick, slightly curved upward and then he thrust in, all at once, fast and hard, only pausing when he was seated deep within her tight, hot, core. She screamed and he caught the scent of copper as her hymen stretched and gave way.
"Mine, now."
He curved his body along her back, gripped her hips and began to move. Slow at first, stretching her, filling her, the head of his penis tapping her cervix with each thrust. Soon, he picked up speed until he was pounding into her, as he jerked his hips backward to meet every single intrusion and when he felt her walls as they began to flutter, to tighten, he slipped one hand beneath her, to stroke and tweak the hardened nubbin of flesh that hid between her sodden lips.
She screamed again, as she clamped tight enough to halt his movements for the barest of moments and it was at that point that he bit her, in that spot, between neck and shoulder, breaking open the skin, bleeding her. His own orgasm rushed through him as he tasted her, as he pushed in deep and coated her walls with his very essence and then he held that position, grinding, grinding, his swollen member stopping his sperm from escaping.
"Mine." He reiterated and when he was finished, when they were finished, he rolled over so that her back rested against his chest, their bodies still joined. Finally, his teeth retreated and his tongue slipped out to remove the traces of the rich red fluid that had collected there. A flare of magic joined them further until she could do nothing but pull his length deeper and spasm around him yet again.
He howled and knew that she belonged to him.
Draco rolled to his side and waited until he'd slipped from inside her, held her as she shook and trembled, gentled her with kisses and soft licks, stroked her marked flesh oh so softly until he heard the brief exhalation and her words, "You were not to mark me."
"Too late, Granger. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. I am sorry, sorry for the pain and the anguish. Not sorry for the fear. The smell of your fear is everything." He kissed his mark. "But I will try to do better."
And then he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet.
"We must finish the patrol, Malfoy."
"No. Now we dress and then go to our rest, together."
His voice brooked no argument and though she was still frightened, still in pain, she could only nod as she knew it could have been much worse. Even so, as she slipped into her clothes and cloak, she felt it necessary to tell him one more thing. "I do not love you. Maybe I never will."
And he replied, "I don't need your love yet. I only require your submission and never say never, Hermione. Regardless you are mine and carrying the seed I planted."
Her body shook with shock, yet once he was dressed, they left and returned to the gray castle.
She knew then that she had no choice but to join him in his room.
A/N~ Spelling corrections and the like. It was messy when I read through it for the second time. Please R&R.
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Hunter and Prey