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Pareo: Obey	By : kateofallpeople Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 59757 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, characters, etc. I sadly make no money from this.

Chapter List
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As much as she'd tried, she couldn't hide in her dormitory forever. It wasn't just for want of food, drink, and company, either. No, instead Lavender had informed her that Harry and Ron were both threatening to blow down the tower if she didn't come downstairs, before Lavender herself ran back down the stairs to join them. She'd managed to avoid it from Friday afternoon until Sunday evening, asking her roommates to bring her food because she 'wasn't feeling well'. Parvati had suggested she go to the Hospital Wing if she really wasn't feeling that well, but she'd refused and they knew it went farther than a stomach ache or a migraine. Her refusal to come down from the dormitory at all had lead Ginny to talk to Harry, who had instantly demanded to see her. Luckily he couldn't get up the staircase, and for the first bit of time Ginny was too timid to get fussy.

Sunday changed things - worst of all, Ginny's phrasing. It had begun with "Hermione, you really should come down and eat something..." but had now come to "Hermione, come downstairs. The boys are driving me mad." She had been able to shut herself in her four-poster successfully for two days, but this new order broke the dam and forced her to a standing position. She only had enough time to pile her hair on top of her head in a bun and pull on jeans and a sweater before her fingers were seemingly pulled towards the doorknob.

Ginny grinned when she saw her. "Good. I was beginning to get worried. You know how they get, too, they won't leave you alone no matter how loudly you shout at them..."

Hermione followed the younger girl downstairs, praying with all her might that the common room was otherwise empty. It was still a nice afternoon, despite the September chill setting in, and there was very little homework to do. Perhaps Draco wouldn't be there at all, and she wouldn't have to face him and try to gauge whether or not he had picked up on her secret. As she padded down the last of the steps behind Ginny - who wore a smug look in celebration of being the only one who had 'convinced' Hermione to come down all weekend - she dug her nails into her palms. Seven more steps... four... last step...

He was nowhere to be seen. Draco, she meant. Harry and Ron were sat at each of two chairs near the staircase, in the middle of a game of Wizard's Chess that looked like it was going very thoroughly in Ron's favor. Surprise, surprise. Harry looked up first, noticing her.

"Hermione! There you are. We were worried about you..."

"Worried how? I was fine... just taking some time to myself. Classes again, you know. It's been a while since I've had to write an essay or anything." She pulled what she thought might look like a smile across her face and gestured for Harry to move over in his armchair. She squashed in beside him and looked up at Ron, who was grinning at her. She and Ron were... together, in a way. In the way that neither of them had officially discussed it, but they still knew what was between them and what had transpired. But she'd been adamant at the fact that they not let their relationship get in the way of their studies, and he'd finally caved in. She could have whatever she wanted, if she would at least publicly admit she was his. This, she had no problem with.

They passed some time in the common room before she began to feel uneasy again. But why should she let her final year be ruined by spending all of it avoiding Draco Malfoy? He was going to show up. In her own common room. In Gryffindor tower. But she had to let that go. Suddenly, everything felt alright again...

Until roughly four minutes later, when a raucous bout of hoarse male laughter was heard coming through the portrait hole. Hermione excused herself and attempted to leave the group around her and head back upstairs, but a few words from Ron kept her cemented to her seat. Draco, Blaise, and their three dorm mates scared a group of third years out of the seats by the fire and took their places, Draco thankfully facing the other way. It would be bad enough if any of her friends realized what was wrong with her - if someone like any of those boys knew, it could be disastrous. She rose just slightly from the chair, looking instantly towards the staircase.

"Where are you going, Hermione? Sit. Stay with us a while. At least a few minutes longer, please..."

At 'sit'', her bottom sank back into the chair beside Harry, and she smiled despite the growing panic in her mind. She'd make it look like she was staying because Ron asked her to - and in most circumstances, she would have despite the direct order - but she itched to spring to her feet and climb the stairs back to safety, or else hide out in the library.

The library! Why hadn't she thought of it before? Draco almost never went into the library, he usually had a younger student retrieve his books for him, or else snuck in and out without a peep. Not one to be seen studying or taking, well, anything seriously, she knew she'd have a haven once more between rows of tomes and she wouldn't run into him at all. It was a perfect way of avoiding anyone finding out (mostly because nobody spent as much time as Hermione did in the library, and she knew that none of her friends would ever follow her there) while also getting her school work done and securing the number of NEWTs she was aiming for. She sat silently for a few more minutes as that game ended and Harry gave up his seat to Ron (who sat beside Hermione while he played a game against Seamus, who wasn't very good). As soon as that game was half-over and had already been decided as being in Ron's favor, she was able to move again. She planted her feet and didn't wait for anyone else to notice and make her stay. She spoke quietly enough to be heard only by those around her.

"I'm going to the library. I've got loads of homework already, and I've worked on a bit of it already but if I want it all to be perfect, I've got to go."

Her friends sent her off (as she'd suspected - nobody else shared that degree of perfectionism) and Hermione quickly retrieved her book bag from upstairs before darting down the stairs again and out the portrait hole without another word. Once safely in the hallway she ducked around any students or staff she saw in the halls and made her way to the library in near-record time.

The smell set her at ease again - dust and something musky, a comfortable sort of scent. Her shoulders relaxed instantly, though she hadn't even realized they'd been so tense. She slipped through two rows and off into a dim corner with a cubby desk half-hidden by the large shelf in front of it. She pulled out her parchment and quill, and with one more look around the room to make sure she was alone, she began to work. This was where she felt most at home - at her favorite cubby desk in her favorite room at Hogwarts, with at least one book open in front of her and her nicest quill in hand. She found that her latest Charms essay was easier than she'd imagined, and quickly had the required twelve inches and then a few more tacked onto the bottom of that. Flitwick would be pleased, as usual. She began to roll that bit of parchment up and pull out another one for Transfiguration when she heard a noise at the end of the row, a creaking sound that meant someone had stepped on the floorboards. Her head snapped to the side, expecting Voldemort or worse - Draco Malfoy. But it was only a fifth year Hufflepuff girl, one who gave her an odd sort of look while walking away. It served Hermione right, and she knew it. She was being paranoid. She resigned herself to feel better and to get out of this rut. It had happened twice. She'd gotten out of it both times by improvising and using her usual sharp wit. She could do it again, if needed.

But at the end of the night when Madam Pince unceremoniously kicked her out of the library and sent her to bed, that resolution was far from her mind. She had more important things to deal with - the ending of that last essay wasn't quite perfect, and she still had to think of a theoretical better antidote for a more rare poison, for Potions class...

"Ahem."

It wasn't even a good fake cough, but it had caught her attention for that reason. The doors of the library closed behind her and Hermione felt the baby hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end.

"Hello?"

The light that had come from the library was out, and now only a dim glow remained from a torch a few yards down the hall. The noise sounded again.

"Ahem." This time, it was followed by footsteps. When she finally made out which direction they were coming from, she turned to see a tall dark figure with unmistakably light blonde hair.

He narrowed his eyes, circling her as she clutched at her bag hanging at her hip. His eyes never left her, and the corners of his lips just turned up in a faint smirk. "Studying?"

She released her grip on her bag. She could handle herself any other day, today would be no different. "I've been known to do that. You should try it some time."

She swore she could hear him chuckle as he walked behind her. She stepped forward, meaning to make the long walk down the short hallway that would take her to the grand staircase, but he came around and stepped in front of her again, bending forward slightly to lower his face to close to her level. She'd never realized just how tall he was - the last time she'd been that close to him was in Third Year when she'd hit him. She felt like she could do it again, if she needed to. He let out a breath.

"Careful, Granger... small girl in a dark hallway with a man much bigger than her."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I've hit you once and I could do it again. Don't force my hand."

"Oh, I remember it well. A good swing, yes... bruised me for a few days. Did more than that though, it humiliated me. And disgusted me. If you weren't such a little thing, such a girl, I'd have swung right back and that would have stopped you from thinking you scare me at all. Unfortunately, hitting you then would have resulted in expulsion."

"And attempting to frighten me in a hallway now doesn't warrant the same?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes, gaze stern.

"No, silly girl, it does not." He took one step forward, and then another, until their faces were an inch apart. She scurried back, anxious to get as far from him as she could. She stepped quickly around him and walked down the hall at normal pace. She could make him think this conversation was over, except...

Except he'd be heading to the same common room. He'd maneuvered his way in a week ago and he knew it got under her skin, and that of those of her classmates. She continued at an even pace, though her breathing was anything but even. For a moment he didn't seem to follow her, but after a few paces he took off after her, his long strides closing the distance between them. He stepped out in front of her again. She was just paces from the staircase, maybe she could lose him there if it took a random change in direction. Merlin knew it had happened on her way to somewhere important loads of times...

"Ah ah, hold on little bookworm. You don't just walk away from a Malfoy or family of - that scar on your neck is proof enough of that."

Her hand raised to her throat - Bellatrix's scar. At the manor she'd had a knife held to her throat by Draco's aunt, and in the process of escaping had been cut by it deeply enough to leave a thin, pink scar across half of her throat. Though Harry, Ron, and most of their friends avoided talking about it or looking at it, she'd seen some students point and whisper. Nobody else knew who it had been caused by - but how it got there was clear. She could once again feel the cold metal cut through her skin, could feel the blood pool there and then spill over the sides of the cut, just shallow enough to let her know that she was safe, somehow.

"The scar on my neck is proof that I did walk away, isn't it? Though not entirely unscathed, obviously. I'd think twice about who walked away from that confrontation - I or Bellatrix. Because even though I didn't personally rid the world of such evil, someone did."

His face turned down into a grimace, and he very nearly recoiled from her. Good. It might be working.

"Yes, your blood traitor friends. How touching. And they saved you then, didn't you? When you got that scar? But where are they now?" He exaggerated a sweeping glance down both sides of the dim hallway. "Oh, they're not here."

"What do you want, Malfoy? Just let me leave."

"I don't want anything. Well, I do want to know what your problem is so far this year. Seems you've become even more insufferable since last year. But mostly I want to know why you keep watching me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked at the ground. How could he have seen? Unless one of his friends were to see her staring at the back of his head, steadfastly avoiding his presence. He and Blaise had been turned towards the fire that afternoon, but the remaining three goons had not.

"You think me stupid?"

"I think you're blind. I noticed you arrived in the common room, though I wished you were as far from it as possible."

"Too bad. Looks like I'll be in there all year, whether or not you've wished it to be so."

"You're revolting."

"I could say the same of you. Except for one thing..."

"And what is that?"

"Hate to admit it, Granger, but you're intelligent. Over the last year - watching my parents get sent away to Azkaban, watching one of my closest friends die and the other also get sent to Azkaban... losing half of my family - none of my fortune, but half of my family - you'd think I'd have grown a heart. No, not that. But I did successfully avoid imprisonment by resolutely stating the fact that I'd broken no laws. Somehow that was true. I've got a new value on intelligence, and it would be a shame to kill someone with a mind like yours."

She stood in silence, not sure how to respond. Had it been a compliment? No, it had been that he realized that even in his mind, her intelligence was one very small redeeming facet of her personality. Of her existence. She knew it meant only that he would continue to make her suffer more, but what choice did she have? Especially given her new circumstances. She didn't move, didn't change the way she looked at him - a bored sort of annoyance, mixed with a strong desire to smack him right across his perfect little face.

After a few moments he stepped aside, gesturing for her to climb the staircase. She'd have refused if it weren't for the fact that he'd said "Go." With him behind her, he could pull any number of curses or hexes and nobody would be around to see it happen. Even most of the faces in the portraits had their eyes closed, slumber overtaking them. She realized they were both late for curfew, but as Prefects it wouldn't matter if they were caught. It wouldn't matter what she said - if anyone on patrol tonight saw them out, who knew what they'd think. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger out alone in the dark hallways at night. She took in a sharp breath - that wouldn't go over well - and tried taking the stairs even faster. When she reached the second landing, turning right, she looked back to see him - but he wasn't there at all.

That night, Hermione had run straight through the common room and past her friends towards her dormitory. By the time she was halfway up the stairs, she thanked her lucky stars that none of them had told her to wait, or come back. She couldn't have handled that just then.

The next day was Monday, and as much as she wished she could stay in bed for the remainder of the week - or the school year - she knew that she had classes and meals to get to and so rose from bed of her own accord. Her friends were glad to see her outside of her dormitory and for a fleeting moment, she was glad as well. Breakfast was quick but enjoyable, with Hermione making nary a glance in Draco's direction. She only had one class with him that day, and usual seating arrangements meant that she and Harry would be safe enough on the other side of the Potions dungeon. She was right on that note too - her first two classes and Potions passed without even one little hiccup. Perhaps it had all been in her head, after all.

Or not. She'd made a point of mentioning to Harry that she was staying after class to ask Slughorn a question, and that she'd like it if Harry stayed with her. At the time he'd completely agreed, but as soon as class was released he bolted out the door, his bag flying out in an arc around him. Hermione didn't dare look around the room, she simply strode up to the professor's desk and asked a few questions on the exact nature of the potions they were due to brew the next week in class. NEWT level potions was proving to be a challenge, even for her, but she was assured that it was early enough in the year that they wouldn't be given anything she couldn't handle. She didn't quite believe him, anyway, but she turned and exited the door, thankful that the afternoon of classes was over and that she could now find a place to hide - in her dormitory, most likely - and to study without interruption until dinner.

"Ahem."

Damn.

She released her hold on her bag, turning towards Draco with what she hoped was a tired sort of expression.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I've got studying to do."

He chuckled, falling into step with her and leading them not towards the staircase or Gryffindor tower, which she'd hoped, but off down a narrow corridor Hermione had rarely traveled. "While I'm sure you'd like to stick your face in a book and never come out, I've got news for you. We've been assigned as night patrol partners by McGonagall and the rest of staff. Some sort of house-melding dream team to try and get all of the other houses to see that we can... cooperate."

"You're joking."

"Oh, Granger, I wish I were. But I heard it straight from the cat's mouth - joke intended - and it would seem we're to start tonight."

"I can talk to her... there's no possible way she allowed this to happen."

"She willed it to happen, unfortunately. It was her decision. We meet at ten at patrol until midnight, every Monday and Thursday. We're also first grabs if someone isn't doing their job on weekends - ten-thirty to midnight."

Hermione kept silent. How could this be happening? Why had McGonagall had to choose her and Draco? She knew how Hermione utterly despised the young man, but Hermione supposed that this would all look very nice with her newest plans. She wanted the houses to all get along, to stop being so separate. Well, this may be the way to make things work out between any other two students in school, but between herself and Draco it was sure to be only disaster.

Draco sighed, leading them back towards the main corridor and the staircase. "Of course, she said she'd be available to meet with you later this evening if you'd like to appeal. She said the decision still stands, though. That this will be... good for the two of us."

"She's mad."

"Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your smart little mouth, Granger, but alas she may be. Ten, outside the portrait hole."

Just before walking into the sight of other students, he took a few quick steps forward, separating them. Hermione stopped still at the end of the hallway. This couldn't be happening. She'd been working so diligently to avoid Draco, and now she'd be stuck with him two or three nights a week. And to top it all off, his bossy attitude could ruin everything. What if he found out? What would he do if he knew? Make her hurt herself? Make her hurt the people she loved? Fail her classes? Embarrass herself totally and completely? She shook the thought from her mind, walking quickly to and up the staircase and directly through to her dormitory. She'd eat dinner with her friends, and spend time with them afterwards. No more hiding. Besides, if Draco was going to find out her secret, he now had a few hours a week to do exactly that.

"You're late."

Draco slipped a small watch back into his pocket. Hermione was climbing out of the portrait hole and checked her own watch as soon as she stood.

"It's eight fifty-six. I'm early."

"No, you're late. Let's get moving then, I'd like to keep busy and be able to pass time as quickly as humanly possible."

They began the slow, predetermined circuit around the castle. Rounds through each dormitory corridor, through all hallways and nooks and crannies. A slow circle around the outside of the castle. Repeat. It was nearly eleven by the time they'd finished the first lap, and though it had passed entirely in silence Hermione felt slightly better about the whole thing. If he was going to be civil enough to not speak to her at all - though he did look at her a few times, which was disconcerting - then perhaps they could pass two hours in relative peace and return to the dormitory unscathed and without tempting each other into a duel to the death. The second lap seemed to go quicker than the first, however, and was finished closer to eleven-forty. With the remaining twenty minutes, Draco lead them through hallways Hermione had rarely been through. In the middle of the third long corridor, he spoke.

"I used to be up late, I'd go through these back hallways with Crabbe and Goyle and sometimes Parkinson and Zabini, and we'd be up late just for the sake of saying we did. I figure if anyone is trying to do the same, this is the place to go."

Hermione nodded. She'd only been back here a few times, wandering with Harry once or twice trying to think of a suitable place for DA meetings. Once the Room of Requirement had come into play, she hadn't thought twice about this little maze of halls. At the end, Draco hesitated, looking towards a door.

She stood still, trying to see if he sensed someone out of bed.

"Do you hear something?" She looked at him, and he turned to her with a quizzical look on his face.

"No. Let's just keep walking."

They walked all the way back up the staircase and were just a few dozen steps from the portrait hole when he huffed out a breath.

"Stop."

She froze in her tracks, unable to move her feet. Did he hear something this time? But he only went back a few steps, opening a door to a rather small practice room Hermione had never been in. It was dim, the walls only it by one torch.

"Get in."

"What?" She wanted to protest, but her legs were already moving. How did he already know? It had only happened twice! And barely even that. He couldn't know, he couldn't...

But he stepped in behind her and closed and locked the door. "Don't scream. Don't yell. And as soon as we leave this room you are to tell no one what has happened or anything that has been said between us. Do you understand?"

"Draco, I..."

"Do you understand? Answer me."

"Yes."

"Good. Then I've got a few questions to ask you. I want you to answer me with the truth. You've got some sort of enchantment on you, right?"

She tried to remain silent, but she could feel the response building in her throat. The word forced its way out. "Y-Yes."

"Alright. And you've been given some sort of order... what was the spell that was used on you?"

"Pareo."

"I see. You know what it means, I'm guessing? I figure you've researched the subject extensively. I've done a little looking, myself."

"Yes. Obey."

"Yes... it does. Very old magic." Draco looked around the room. There were just a pair of desks and chairs for practice levitating things, and a door that lead to a closet that she knew held old furniture, storage of some Hogwarts holiday decorations, and a chalkboard. Draco leaned back against a desk, looking at her in a way that she was not comfortable with. "Magic older than anything we've ever known. Magic that originated in the ancient times. Strongly Latin-based. But do you understand the differences between this and the Imperius curse?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Imperius controls body and mind - it's like playing puppeteer with someone's entire being. But Pareo is more basic, and yet more cruel. My mind is mine to keep, and I can attempt to resist orders, but it's no use. My actions are completely controlled."

"You're missing something very important, Granger."

"The spellcaster. He's dead. But the enchantment remains. Even I don't know why."

"There's a reason Pareo was outlawed. Erased from spellbooks. Kept in the utmost secrecy. Because the spellcaster isn't the one who controls you - it's everyone." He took a few steps towards her, his head tilted. "Anyone." He took the last steps towards her, stopping just inches from her. "Someone like me."

"What do you want, Malfoy? I swear, I could tell on you, you'd be sent to Azkaban, you could be..."

"Stop there." She felt her lips come together, seemingly glued there. He smirked. "See, I wouldn't be. I didn't cast the spell. I haven't done anything. But you're going to do something now that you don't want to do, and I'm hardly going to order you to do it. I want you to think. Think hard about the similarities between you and myself. Think about what you and I value above most things. Something that we strive for. And then I want you to tell me what it is."

It took her only moments. It was evident in what she was fighting against and in the decorum that fitted them both. "Control."

"Yes, yes. Control is a strong word, but you know the deeper meaning as well. Composure. Being able to completely control aspects of our lives - for you it may be school, your thin relationship with the Weasel, maybe something to do with that mass of curls you call hair. For me it is what people think of me, my finances, behaviors. But no, Granger. What I want from you isn't necessarily control. I don't want to entirely control you. No, I want something deeper than that. I want you to lose control, one way or another. I've done it, a handful of times. When I dueled Potter in the bathroom. When I flee from the war. And while I enjoyed each of those things immensely - a wild, untamed approach to a situation - my release of inhibitions was limited to myself. I've thought about it since I found out about your little secret - not that it could have lasted long without being discovered, really. What would it be like for Hermione Granger to lose control? I'd like to see that. Don't you want to feel something like that? Tell me honestly."

Thoughts tumbled around in her brain. Loss of inhibitions, loss of control. But weren't they the same thing, to some degree? "I... I don't know."

"Goodness, conflicted little Granger. Well, let me give you a little more insight." He shifted on his hip and tilted his head down towards her. She made a move to step back only... only she didn't. Couldn't? She wasn't sure. He smelled like something musky, smoky. It made her head swim and she couldn't call it unpleasant.

He chuckled, stepped back just a few inches. "I told you to enter this room, but I never told you not to leave it. Yet you're standing here, after this conversation."

She started. He was right. She could turn now and leave, if only... if only he didn't know so much. She couldn't erase it from his memory, that was highly illegal.

"Tell me Granger. Your so-called relationship with Weasley. Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course I do. Ron and I are matched well."

"I'm sure. But what about affection? Physical attraction?"

She felt herself blush. She hadn't really been ready to cross that line until late in August, and even then she'd had a strict set of rules.

She realized with a start that she hadn't wanted him to touch her. Something that all persons, especially at the hormonal age she was at, should want.

He smirked. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"We've never done much. Clothes mostly on. It was my rule, only... only I don't know why. It just felt weird, being touched by someone I'd considered one of my best friends. It was uncomfortable at times."

"But you're of age. It's not out of the question. In fact, shouldn't you want those things?"

"Draco, please. Can we stop this? Just let me go..."

"No. Stay. I want to ask you a few things. Are you afraid?"

"I... no. Not afraid."

"Then tell me why you want to leave."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Tell me - embarrassed because of what you're telling me, or embarrassed because you're telling me things you've hardly realized yourself?"

"The latter."

"I want you to answer my next questions completely honestly. How far have you gone with Ron Weasley?"

"He's... we've only ever kissed. We tried touching with clothes on, and once with clothes somewhat off."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Some parts."

"Which parts?"

"I... I liked being touched. Clothes off."

"But not by Ron Weasley?"

"No."

"With someone else?"

"There's been no one else."

She felt her cheeks turn red. This was mortifying. How could she be talking about this sort of thing to Malfoy when she couldn't even bring it up to Ron? Being back at school had helped, he knew she was too busy with studying to sneak off and she'd been able to avoid him anyway. But it wasn't as if she didn't have feelings for him - she thought to herself that she might even love him, in a way.

And then the dreaded question came.

"Why don't you want him to touch you? Tell me."

"Because it feels like a friend or a brother. It's not... exciting." She recoiled at her own words. That sounded mean. Ron was perfectly attractive, in his own way. But she hardly ever felt like a girl around him. She was either his best friend Hermione, or sometimes he'd kiss her and she'd feel like a girl but then that would be over in an instant.

"Tell me when was the last time you touched yourself."

She thought she'd been red before - her face flushed purple. "Please, no... oh god, two weeks ago."

He sniggered, walking in slow circles around her. She felt smaller somehow, more vulnerable. But he didn't seem as if he wanted to harm her - just embarrass her half to death. What could he do, tell Ron? She doubted it. Not that Ron would believe him. But she sensed that this was about something else entirely.

"Tell me. Did you lose control?"

"Yes."

She thought about it - she'd rarely done it before. Maybe a handful of times. It seemed so vulgar, even though she knew it was perfectly normal for anyone. She'd been in the shower, and the boys were all out playing Quidditch in the yard. She told Ron she was staying inside to read, but a shower had sparked something in her. She'd run her hands over her round little breasts, slick over her flat stomach, and to the fronts of her hips. Just the tip of her hip bones stuck out against pale skin. She'd developed a little later than some, just now sprouting breasts and watching her hips take shape over this last summer. And as far as hip areas went, she'd been keeping that area free of hair for a year or two now, mostly because it itched her and seemed like an inconvenience. She had run her hand over the fleshy mound and a breath had rattled in her. She'd left the shower in a minute flat and laid on Ron's bed a minute after that. Her wet curls laid out on her shoulders, eyes closed. Her fingers had roamed the area briefly before she'd let a finger slip over the little nub there, sending shock waves through her body. She was eighteen, for Merlin's sake. This was perfectly fine. With her other hand clasped over her left breast, she let the fingers of her right hand trace slow circles over an area she'd rarely acknowledged. Every movement made her ache, a slow burn in her belly making her thrust upwards into her hand. She spread her legs wider, and a cool breeze through the window flicked over the dampness between her legs and made her eyes roll back in her head. What had she thought about? Sex. She'd never had it, though she'd thought about it plenty in the name of both science and pleasure. She remembered her release - bucking her hips up against the pads of two fingers on her right hand. Pinching and pulling the nipple of her left breast as she hissed through her teeth and then fell, spent, back to the mattress. She'd immediately dressed again, fearing someone might walk in on her, but the memory and feeling had stayed with her for days afterwards.

"You're thinking about it."

She was snapped back to the present by Draco, who was steps away again, watching her. She knew her pulse was quick, knew he'd been watching her pupils dilate and her chest rise and fall deeply.

She nodded slightly before realizing he hadn't given her and order. This she'd admitted by her own free will. He must have known the same, as his grin only grew.

"Interesting... the bookworm has a whole other side to her now. Well... I think that's well enough for one night. Remember what I said - you can't tell anyone what happened in this room tonight. I don't think you would anyway... too many questions. This never happened. You can go, now." She felt a hold on her release and walked quickly towards the door, her head down. She'd been embarrassed, but why? Was it because she'd allowed herself to think of such things and say such things at all? Or was it because of Draco Malfoy making her explain them all?

"Oh, and wait, Granger."

She felt her steps slow. She'd been just inches from the door. He walked up behind her, his chest pressing into her shoulder blades. She remembered just how tall he was as she felt his warm breath tickle her left ear.

"I want you to touch yourself tonight. Shut up your four-poster, cast your silencing charm, and touch yourself. And I want you to think of me while you do it. Now go."

She felt her eyes widen as she grasped the knob, flew out into the hallway, and practically tumbled through the portrait hole and up the stairs to her four poster.

Once she was there, the effect was immediate. She slipped her wand from her pocket and sealed and silenced her four poster. She was completely alone in this little area, surrounded by masses of soft blankets and a fluffy pillow. Well, completely alone except for the pale face burning in her mind. His tall figure, broad shoulders. It was disgusting, but then it wasn't, and... her clothes were off before she'd realized what she'd been doing. She was naked in her bed except for her knee socks of cozy grey wool. There was no cool breeze this time, only the clear memory of Malfoy's warm breath tickling her ear as he instructed her to do what she was about to begin. Touch yourself. Her fingers traced the curves of her body down to that fleshy mound again, between lips that had been damp since he'd made her think about the last time she'd done this. She was embarrassed, yes. And she wanted this to be in her control, she wanted to do this of her own accord. But wasn't this all part of his new little plan? To make her lose control? Well, he hadn't ordered that. But she felt a loss growing in her mind as the ache grew in her hips. Her fingertips over that most sensitive spot sent a wave of feeling over her body. She arched her back, quickened the movement with her hand. The way he'd walked up behind her - domineering, manly, knowing exactly what he wanted. In some way, that was all she'd wanted from Ron. But it had come from him instead...

And in an instant she thought of what his chest might look like, or his bum, and if he'd be the sort of man that could make her want to do all of those things she wanted to do. If he could be the sort of man that might make her feel like a woman, not a girl at all. If he were to touch her like she was touching herself... like he'd ordered her to touch herself, knowing exactly how it would make her feel, his warm breath perhaps tickling other parts of her anatomy and...

She let out a little mewl of pleasure as she bucked up against her fingers, her free hand grasping the blankets under her body. She felt spent, she felt good, but she also felt a sort of conflicting pleasure rising within her. She hated him, but he had made her feel this good. He had wanted her to do this.

Before she could rationalize any of it or even catch her breath again, her eyelids fluttered shut and she was lured into a sleep full of hazy images of sex, an open window, and that dim practice room down the hall.
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Pareo: Obey