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Need	By : diami25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 30263 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies and I'm not making any profits from this writing.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Need by WickedDiSaster

Author's Notes:

This chapter was edited to the point where I can no longer re-read it and I don't want to send it back to Lorca for fear she ditches me. To those that have read the old version, I'd love to hear what you think. Hopefully nothing in it seems forced and maybe, just maybe, you enjoy it.

Chapter 2: Raw by WickedDiSaster

Long after he left, Hermione wouldn�t remember how much time she spent in that alley, how she got back to Hogwarts, or the strange looks she received on her way to her dorm.

She would remember, though, the stench of her clothes before she burned them, and the stench that remained on her body after that. It was only after several long showers that she finally understood that the scent wasn�t on her body, but imprinted in her mind. When at last she turned the taps off, she let herself sink down into the still-filled bathtub.

The self-awareness that the loss of her innocence had given her made her certain that she would never be the same again. But the worst of it, what kept her rooted to the bathtub, was not the fact that she had been defiled; it was the fact that she had not been spelled, as she had thought. All those incredibly tormenting, magnificent sensations she had felt were not caused by any charm, curse or indeed magic of any kind; it had been her, all along. It was that knowledge of having had the first orgasms of her life, during an act that had not only been against her will, but that had been meant to torment her. She couldn�t understand what could possibly be so wrong with her that she had actually enjoyed it.

She couldn�t understand what had happened to her; what was wrong with her! She had been the victim of an act of pure evil; her defilement not only a strategy to hurt one of her dearest friends, but also a strategy of a war meant to exterminate her kind. She had been used in the most terrible of ways, and she had enjoyed it. She had marvelled in her torture, thrilled to it; an act orchestrated to bring down not only herself, but those she held most dear. It had all been done to gain an advantage in this war, but with the added purpose of tormenting her, of breaking her.

She went over it in her head again and again, the memories only making her feel worse. Not because of the sadness her loss brought, but for the shame over her obvious arousal, which she now recognised as such. Her innocence had been tarnished forever, but the memory of her body�s reaction to the attack kept her transfixed, lost in an empty space.

She hadn�t wanted to lose her virginity in such a despicable way. She hated knowing that what was taken from her would never come back, she would never be the same again. Every molecule in her body had changed and she couldn�t help but feel dirty, feel badly about herself. Her logic fought such feelings and she longed for the lost sense of pride she now knew she had carried with herself. She fought to grasp it, to find it deep within herself; she had NOT wanted it, God damn it! Yet, she had enjoyed it, a voice within her whispered, and any weak grasp of self-worth she could have felt fell away into nothingness.

How could she have taken part in such an act of pure hatred, against herself, against her kind? She�d been used and yet she all but gave herself to it.

For Merlin�s sake, she had held on to him for dear life. She might even have actually left marks on him; marks of pure, raw and undiluted passion, rather than desperate actions to defend herself. She could still feel his hands travelling over her body, feel the fire he had ignited with them. How he had lost himself in her; she could still remember, with mind-numbing clarity, the way her orgasms had rocked her body. How many times had she come? If she thought of it that way, she had even enjoyed herself more than him, for he had only come once, right? NO! No, it couldn�t be; each time such a thought crossed her mind, she rubbed her palms against her skin forcefully, for she could not have wanted it, she could not have enjoyed it...

Yet she had.

Why had he made her come at all? Had he done it on purpose? She had felt how he looked for those spots that would make her quiver, she�d felt how he delved into her moans and gasps; the way he�d kissed her, like she was water in the dessert and he wanted to take every drop from her. Why had he done that, had it been part of his scheme? Could someone plan such passion? But, no, it was all meant to hurt her; how could he have predicted such a sick and perverted reaction from her. No! She wasn�t like that, she had not been like that; they had changed her!

Yes, it had all been meant to damage her. They�d taken her innocence and she would never get it back. They HAD hurt her.

Then why had he acted that way?

No, she would not think about that. She was having enough trouble handling the way she had felt; she would not start blaming herself now. What would happen then? Would she start forgiving what he had done? No, she would not think about his actions. Not yet. She was obviously not ready to think rationally now.

She remained in the water long after it grew cold, and she was still reluctant to get out when Parvati knocked on her door, informing Hermione that she needed to have a bath before classes started. It was then that she realized - she had spent all night there.

She pulled a towel around herself, but refused to use her wand to dry her hair. It reminded her of what she had done. Her wand, like her treacherous body, had betrayed her, even contributed to her attack.

No, she thought firmly; she refused to think it had been her fault. She wouldn�t go down that path, not now; not yet.

She took the wand and hid it within her robes. As she left the bathroom, she told Parvati to ask their teachers to excuse her from classes because she wasn�t feeling so well. She apparently didn�t look well, because Parvati even offered to bring her something for breakfast as she lay in her bed, gazing at the bed curtains with an empty stare.

She never touched the food Parvati brought, or what Lavender brought later for lunch; she merely threw it down the toilet. She wouldn�t even dare use her wand to vanish them�

When sleep finally came to her, she dreamt of him; of his touch, his voice, his kisses, which only made her scrub all the more roughly in the shower the next morning. She pressed her nails against her skin, trying to rid herself of his lingering touch. When she finally left the shower, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror for the first time. She had a vague faraway expression on her face and a haunted look behind her eyes. She looked down, noticing some marks on her body. A few hickeys on her neck, that had been hidden by her hair. Her breasts were marked where he had gripped them hard, making her moan in ecstasy; her waist, her derriere, her hips and the inside of her thighs; all of them reminding her of his touches.

She couldn�t understand why she had liked it. A simple spell in that alley had confirmed what Malfoy said, the charms he�d used were not meant to entice her. It had all been her. She felt nauseated by the way her body had behaved.

She still refused to look at her wand and she put her clothes on; the skirt, the blouse, her tie and her cloak. Even if they weren�t the same ones she�d been wearing, they resembled them, and she found herself looking at her reflection with nausea rising in her throat. She put a scarf around herself and made sure all the marks were covered before leaving.

She arrived early for breakfast, hoping to leave before Harry or Ron got there; she was going to bury herself in the library until her classes inevitably started. As luck had it, she was among the first few students in the Great Hall, and among the others she saw him; staring at her with leering eyes and that ever present smirk.

*

Draco had never seen the prim little Gryffindor with her hair wet like that, ever. And after what he�d done with that pristine body of hers, it seemed it did very little to discourage the hard-on he was currently trying to hide. He saw a small drop of moisture sliding across her temple, reminding him of how her perspiring body had looked against the wall; moaning, yelling and grinding against him. She looked dead sexy.

Apparently, the effects of his cold shower that morning were thrown down the drain the moment she came through the door. He�d been dreaming of her for the past two nights, after he sent word to his father about the success of his final task. The fact that he didn�t see her in classes or in the Great Hall during meals had amused him even more. Until now.

Draco had never imagined he would take such pleasure in his task, far from it; for a very long time, he had doubted he would be able to go through with it. What the Mudblood had said was true. Since he had been assigned this new task, he had been thrown into turmoil. His jumbled thoughts had made him indecisive, pushing him into reckless, unavoidable stares directed at her. The fact that even the Weasel had noticed this served to prove just how difficult it had been for him.

Planning such an act of violence had brought up very troublesome memories from his past, and he had found himself many times trying to convince them of taking some other action against her; trying to disguise his fears of being unable to do it.

The day he was ordered to carry out the task, he found himself following her aimlessly. It had taken so long for him to make his move that she had not only noticed his blatant behaviour, she had in fact confronted him about it, and even then, he had found himself hesitant. It had actually taken lots of her encouragement to finally waken him from his bewilderment; if she hadn�t incensed him so with her taunting words, he might never have worked up the stomach to do it.

She had infuriated him in such a way that she had made him lose all control over his actions, eradicating any anguish he might have felt for what he was about to do. He had been suddenly overwhelmed with an immense desire to shut her up, to put her in her place; to make her pay for every time she had made him look like a fool, just by being the insufferable know-it-all that she was. When he had finally crushed her with his body, he was pushed further by her scent in his nostrils. Her limbs were powerless against him, her movements to throw him off only encouraging him even more, enticing him past any doubt about his ability to complete the task. How had he loved enlightening the little Mudblood on just how he was going to make her pay.

It was at that point that it all started to go terribly wrong.

He had lost all control; he had gotten lost in the feel of her forbidden Mudblood body, and the sensation of power and rage he had felt at the beginning had been overwhelmed by the pure desire she had ignited in him. He had touched her far more than he should have, and each caress had driven him mad with wanting more. He�d been overcome with an unbelievable yearning for all the reactions that his ministrations were provoking in her despite herself. The knowledge of her arousal, and his need to get more of those reactions, bewildered him. He had wanted to make her come; it was like proving a point, like teaching her a lesson. Making her lose control at such level at the time had seemed like the best vengeance imaginable.

The fact that she was not supposed to enjoy herself had become a mute point then. His recollection of this important detail, crashing down around him at the moment his spent body had landed on the ground alongside hers, made him quickly disentangle from her, as if denying he had actually taken part in the deed. Then he was furious with her again, for making him lose himself in her treacherous ways, but it was too late; he had taken her against her will and had made every damnable effort to make her enjoy every second of it.

He�d gotten lost in her. Lost in a Mudblood; if his father ever found out... he wouldn�t even dare think about it. For this reason, he did not mention any of that in his report on the attack. He tried to squash these thoughts into the deepest corner of his mind, his memories of just how much he had made her enjoy it, and how much he had enjoyed it himself, remaining with him, haunting his dreams, which only served to infuriate him more. He was furious with himself, with his task, which he knew had been a bad idea from the start; furious with the world and with her most of all. She had made him mad enough to go through with it first, and then made him lose control and ruin everything anyway.

It was why he had thrived in the fact she had not been able to show her face in the last couple of days.

Until now, anyway.

Now, he was experiencing what he could only describe as rage. He couldn�t believe the effect the Mudblood was having on him. It wasn�t like he hadn�t bedded other witches; Merlin, he�d been with better looking, and way more experienced women than Granger! Witches that had never earned a second thought from him after intercourse, much less occupied any of his dreams! Witches who had never made him wake up with a hard on the size of the poles on the Quidditch pitch!

And the dreams he was having; those were the worst part. He could barely even admit it to himself; he�d enjoyed it way more than he should have. And she had been a virgin, for Merlin�s sake!

It was then, that Draco realized he wasn�t the only one that noticed the sudden change in the Mudblood. Merlin, he would slit Nott�s throat, if he didn�t keep his stares on his plate. Fortunately, Nott seemed to notice his glare and lowered his gaze.

She was standing up from her table. Had she even eaten anything? How much time could have passed? It couldn�t have been more than a few minutes and she had barely touched her toast! But she was already through the doors and Draco decided to leave his table as well.

When he reached the door, he saw her turn into a corridor out of the corner of his eye. The library, he thought. How obvious, my little Mudblood.

*

Hermione saw him behind her and decided to change her plans. She slipped through a secret passage in the hallway and found herself hiding in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by her favourite books and some calming tea infusions and slices of toast. Her stomach growled at the sight and she regretted not making this room her first stop from the start�

*

It wasn�t until the next day that Draco saw her again; she was scurrying away after a class they had shared together. She was delusional if she thought he was going to let her get away again. He took a shortcut and found himself in a hallway ahead of her. He could feel her approaching and, as she turned the corner, he pulled her into the wall behind him and pressed his lips against hers. He felt her tense and try to push him away with a horrified shriek, which was silenced by his kiss. He took advantage of her surprise; taking hold of her hands and pushing his tongue through her lips. He was devouring her, feeling every part of her mouth; taking revenge against her and fighting with her tongue, which was still trying to push him out. She flailed at him, hands balled into fists, and he loved every second of her defiance, loved how she still fought against the growing desire he could feel building in her. He wanted to prove her wrong again, prove that she couldn�t resist him. He wanted to prove that he wasn�t the only one having problems with this. He wanted to make her pay for causing him to have all these feelings in the first place.

She didn�t realise that struggling only seemed to encourage him more, she tried to push his tongue away and he took the opportunity to taste those luscious lips that had driven him over the edge a few days ago, those lips that had driven him mad with desire. It was all her fault, all her bloody fault. She was making him want her; making him lust for her; the only one he couldn�t have. It was her fault and he hated her for it.

Hermione was having trouble breathing and starting to find standing up alone a difficult task indeed. Not to mention how troubling it was that her thoughts, which had started to scream at her at the top of their lungs to not let it happen again, were somehow silenced by her treacherous body, that screamed just as loud with the fire of arousal.

Her mind fought for control, trying to repel his advances, while he fed on her struggles like ambrosia. Her body, remembering the mind-numbing pleasure his touches promised to deliver, was making her resolve waver like paper in water.

Her resolve to fight him off weakened at the sensations his body in contact with hers brought. As he pressed himself harder against her, trying to produce even more friction between them, she started to squirm, trying to escape the effect he had on her. Her struggles only ended up enticing him more, and heightened her own arousal as well.

She didn�t know how to fight him off, every ploy she used to stop his advances only served to work against her. No longer knowing how to stop him, and thoroughly confused by her own reactions, she tried to force her deceitful body to stay still, but even as she fought against her need to move against him, she could feel herself giving in. It was all she could do not to increase the heat between them by pressing herself even further against him.

He could feel how her body started to melt under him. Oh, how addicted he was getting to the way she felt. He could feel her desire starting to overpower any hold or control she had over her body, which without a doubt longed for every touch, every lick and every breath that he provided. Just this certainty drove him crazy; soon only her arms remained faithful to her mind as he felt them fighting against his grip, and even they were slowly giving in.

He freed her wrists and his hands caressed their way down her body, brushing against her exuberant breasts, down to her waist; he felt her shudder. He slowly slid his hands under her cloak and felt his way up her front, trying to push away her stupid scarf, until he finally managed it.

The way she shivered under his attentions made him even more ravenous and he knew that she was no longer resisting. He could feel the way her hands, that were once pushing against him, slowly started gliding over him, only to suddenly stop and snatched away fast, as if he was on fire, and for Circe, he was...

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard footsteps walking towards them and pulled her to the closest cabinet in the hallway, locking the door behind them and pushing her against it. It seemed to be one of the places Snape stored his ingredients; some of the jars were giving off yellow and maroon coloured light, bathing them in their glow. He put a hand on top of her mouth as, still pinning her to the door, he started feeling up her body. Draco glanced down at her, and saw that her eyes were wide open. He continued his exploration of her body; removing the scarf completely, he saw the marks he had made the last time and a sudden feeling of possessiveness took hold of him. He smirked. He couldn�t understand why she had kept them but Fuck her!, he thought; she seemed to be more sensitive there and that made it all the better for him. Once the footsteps faded away, he freed her mouth, finding a better use for his hand�

�Please... stop...� she pleaded with shallow gasps while he was nibbling down her neck and unbuttoning her blouse. Oh God, she thought; only her voice remained faithful to her, because the rest of her body could hardly support her. She had her hands on the wall and was gripping it hard, terrified not only of falling, but that if she let go of it, she might not be able to resist the urge to touch him too, and that would be the end of it. She didn�t want to do it again but she could barely resist�

�Don�t pretend you�re not enjoying it, Mudblood. Don�t think you fool me,� he said as he pushed down her bra to reach her breasts with his mouth. She gasped as he slid his tongue over her exposed nipple.

Her skirt had ridden up and he could see another mark surrounding her thigh, increasing the feelings of euphoria the sight of her exposed neck had stirred in him. They made him feel rather possessive of her. He wanted to leap at her, lick them, kiss them, bite them, make them larger; mark her as his.

�Please...� she tried again, no longer aware of what she was begging for, but still trying to gather the courage and strength to pull away. He grunted and stopped, if only because he realised he was losing leverage again; breathing hard, he fell to his knees and lifted a hand to touch the marks on her thigh, just to brush them while he tried to calm down. Feeling as though he was in a trance, he whispered in a husky voice, �Why are you keeping them, Granger?� He brushed his lips against the coloured skin as he felt her shudder; she was losing control as well and maybe she wouldn�t notice he had already lost it.

He parted her legs more and ever so slowly caressed her thigh with his hands. Reaching to the hem of her knickers, he traced his fingers around it as she kept trying to push him away with her hands.

�If you keep that up, I�m going to have to tie them up again, Granger,� he growled right in front of her crotch; that undid her, even as part of her mind thought that her hands would be better tied, so she wouldn�t have to fight against the desire to touch him too. The sensation on her crotch travelled through her body and her knees were about to buckle; maybe if they did, she would fall to him and could grab those lips of his and feel them and kiss them and... NO! Her mind screamed, but it was fighting a losing battle.

He brought his hands around the hem of her knickers and reached behind her to unclasp her skirt, letting it fall to her feet. Looking up, he captured her eyes and started to kiss his marks again, kissing each and every one that he found, licking them one by one, turning from one leg to the other while his hands finished opening the buttons on her blouse and pushed it wide apart. His eyes never left hers. He was enjoying the play of emotions in them; the fact that she couldn�t resist him was exhilarating. He dragged one of his hands up to caress the valley between her breasts, going down past her navel and along to her waist where he left them to keep her steady. He pushed his face between her inner thighs, inhaling her scent. She didn�t smell of lotion and cream, like other witches. Her fragrance, he was learning, was uniquely hers. She smelled of fruits and essences he couldn�t identify. It was just hers; her scent, and it drove him mad.

It wasn�t until he slowly reached her centre that he started learning the fragrance of her arousal. He closed his eyes in rapture and continued following her scent and capturing the hem of her underwear between his teeth, lowering it with the help of his hands, caressing her with his nose on his way down. He stayed there, letting his hands finish the work while he admired her. She kept her self fairly trimmed, he had learned the first time. Typical Granger; probably did it for hygiene.

He looked up to her again, she seemed to be hypnotized; hypnotized and of course dripping wet. He couldn�t wait to taste her.

�Unclasp your bra, Granger. I want to see you do it,� he commanded in a hoarse voice.

Hermione didn�t move; she had lost the battle and she could hardly understand how she was still standing. She had lost all control of her body by now. �Do it, Granger!� he growled and slowly, she complied.

Slowly, Hermione went to the front of her bra and found the clasp there and opened it, not once taking her eyes from him.

�Pull your bra away, Granger, I want to admire the view,� he smirked.

She obliged and let her breasts spill out from the cups; her breaths shallow. He gave a long lick to her centre and she couldn�t help the moan that escaped her. He had one hand on her hip now, touching her derriere and the other on her waist, keeping her in place, as he continued delving his tongue inside her with slow strokes. He felt her tremble and kept exploring, slowly travelling his tongue around her labia, learning the places that granted him a pleasant response. Her taste was intoxicating. He wanted more of it as he continued, trying to lick everything from her, causing her to emit the most delicious sounds imaginable. Her moans alone were driving him nuts with need and suddenly he became exasperated with their position. He transfigured her scarf into a soft rug before pulling her down onto it.

Once on top, however, he became distracted with her body. She was glorious; his eyes travelled from her pelvis to her breasts, just admiring her. As he went up her neck and found her red swollen lips, he found himself wanting to share her taste with her, needing to taste those lips again and see if maybe he could poison her as well with it; the way she had made him lose control and lose all hope of having it back. It was a method of revenge too, he thought, as he lowered himself to her. She moaned when his lips finally encountered hers. His hands travelled over her body and he couldn�t seem to get enough of her. He kept pressing himself harder against her.

Unable to resist anymore, Hermione pulled her legs up to his waist, trapping him with her body, trying to meld it to his. She started clutching at Draco with both hands, pulling him close to her and kissing him just as hard. Somewhere inside Draco�s mind, a voice told him that she wasn�t immune to her own poison, while another screamed that she was taking control. He was bordering on insanity, of course.

Her pelvis was making the most exquisite movements against him, making him emit a guttural sound from deep inside his throat that seemed to be a growl of desperation; he switched their positions, suddenly anxious to see what she could do on top, not really thinking what this could mean later. Still kissing her, his hands travelled over the places where he now knew she was the most sensitive, feeling empowered with the awareness of being able to produce such reactions in her.

Hermione had long fallen into the depths of raw passion; as she gave up any resolve she might have thought she possessed, she surrendered to the sensations her body had become addicted to. At the same time, she gave into the fury that had taken hold of her as she acknowledged she had lost the battle; she had become a traitor because of him. He had poisoned her soul and tainted her body; he had changed her and dragged her down to the depths of hell, to which his kind belonged. She hated him for it.

She wanted to harm him. She wanted to taint him the way he had tainted her; wanted to cause him as much pain as he had caused her; wanted to make him pay for everything he had done to her and couldn�t find a better way to do it than to delve into the raw passion he had set into motion inside her.

She started to pull on his clothes and became frustrated with his shirt. She pulled it apart with fury, not worrying where the buttons landed, as long as she could feel his skin under her hands. Her mouth was nibbling her way across his chest, her hands pulling on his pants, not caring what her nails did to his skin in the process. She started to bite her way down his body, taking all her frustrations out on him with raw passion.

Ironically enough, Draco couldn�t seem to get enough of it; the view of her on top of him, clawing at him with such a need, almost drove him over the edge. The fact that she was the one in control now, the one making him mad with desire, wasn�t lost on him, but as much as he knew it was wrong, he couldn�t stop it. She�d become a drug crawling up his system and he was unable to deter it; the things she was doing to his body were just too delectable and all too good to give them up.

She�d won the war against his underwear and he felt one of her hands surround him. She was stroking him with force, her eyes filled with hatred; her thumb playing with the head of his shaft, spreading his warm pre-cum as if she wanted to teach him a lesson; making him louder and more desperate and still not daring to pull her to him. He wanted to kiss her, impale her and fuck her into oblivion, but he couldn�t bring himself to stop the delicious things she was doing. Consciously or not, she pulled his shaft to her, caressing her pelvis and lower stomach with him, stroking him and teasing him to the point of madness, biting harder and harder on his neck and shoulder. She drew blood from his flesh and licked clean every new wound she made, enjoying how she tainted his pureblood arse and wishing she could drain him completely, corrupting him the way he had corrupted her, punishing him while she enjoyed herself with him.

She pulled his shaft lower on her body and he could feel her labia against him as she tortured him, caressing herself with it through slow movements around her clit. He was barely aware of the pain around his chest that was keeping him grounded and not coming all over her. He tried to push his hips forward to her, tried to get inside her but she would have none of it and scratched him harder when he did that, drawing blood from every nail she carved into his skin. He got her meaning; he was not allowed to call the shots anymore.

She pulled away from him completely, her hands supporting herself on his chest; her legs surrounded him as his shaft still pressed against her crotch.

His eyes roamed over her body; he found himself hypnotized by her beauty. When he finally looked her in the eyes, the fury he found in them rocked him to the core. He realised then, that she was taking her revenge.

He realised as well that he wouldn�t stop her. He just couldn't.

She impaled herself on him then, making him growl with pleasure. Draco pressed his hands against her hips knowing that he�d leave marks, but he needed to touch her, needed to control himself; needed something, anything, that would give him some kind of leverage.

Hermione started to rock against him, slowly continuing with her punishment, finding the movements that would grant her more pleasure, as he learned from her slow torture as well. She lowered herself, changing the angle of her thrusts to get a taste of his lips. She took hold of his hair as she covered his mouth, tracing her tongue around his lips, before gaining entrance to his mouth, stroking his tongue just as slowly as she moved, before she bit him.

He started to pull his hands up her body, caressing her waist and hugging her close. She gave a moan of approval and, encouraged, he started to thrust his hips up to meet hers, trying to hit the places that she�d shown him she liked. She nibbled on his lips as he did, accelerating the speed of her thrusts until she came, milking him inside of her, as he finally let go as well.

She rested on top of him until she recovered her breath, letting herself be hugged as she did so, while a barely conscious Draco summoned his cloak to cover them both. When the euphoria of their orgasms gradually faded, the overwhelming feeling of what she had done dawned on her, filling her eyes with tears.

She started sobbing.

Draco pulled her away into a sitting position. Not quite understanding what was going on, he tried to calm her, even if he thought there was no reason for her to react this way, and no reason for him to even try to help her.

He just couldn�t figure her out; it seemed to him she�d won the war. To him, what they had just done had proved it, she�d avenged herself by having her way with him. The Gryffindor hadn�t even needed the help of her rotten friends to turn him into a whimpering sex toy. Then why was she crying? What the hell...?

Still, he found the sight of her tears heart-wrenching, so he pulled her face up to meet his. What he found in her eyes scared him; the pain in them shook him, and in that small fragment of time, he realised what had happened.

While something like this would have made him relish in victory; to the almighty Gryffindor Queen, it seemed to fill her with regret.

She thought she�d now become like him...

He reacted to the scene like the Slytherin he was; he became enraged with her.
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