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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
- 3
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"Is everyone present?" McGonagall took a sweeping look down the long table usually meant for staff meetings. The days classes had been unbearably short, hardly leaving Hermione enough time between the current Prefect's meeting and the fiasco in the Great Hall this morning that had resulted in Hermione vibrantly remembering what had happened just the night before. How had a handful of classes passed in what seemed like minutes? It had seemed like mere seconds between the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts (which now more closely resembled a free afternoon spent studying) and the moment that Ron had grabbed her hand, rambling on about Quidditch tryouts being the next week and the lists being handed out at the Prefects meeting, which they were now headed to. She'd nearly forgotten Ron would be there at all - how did someone as scatterbrained as her boyfriend end up as a Prefect in the first place? - but now she'd be sitting next to him for nearly half an hours worth of reporting and planning while Draco sat just more than an arms reach from her. He was only one seat away and across the table. The distance was startling, though, when compared to the proximity of the two of them from the night before. Then her brain clicked into a more logical drive - could there be negative distance between two things? Did an entrance count as zero distance? Especially an entrance of that length...

"Miss Granger?" She felt fire in her cheeks. McGongall, along with the seven prefects besides herself in the room, were all staring at her. She'd been asked a question, one she'd wholly and completely missed.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, I've been a little distracted today. Can you repeat the question?"

"I was asking how your patrols have been. Your patrol partner says all has been well, and that you've been able to apprehend at least three students out of bed in the last week."

It was true, after all. Even though the two nights had been spent only half patrolling the corridors, they had managed to catch three separate groups of students out of bed between the two nights, mostly right at the beginning and mostly younger students who thought they could sneak out without being caught.

"Y-Yes, we have." She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, clearing her head. "That's on the old route. Most of them were younger students, so I figure they haven't quite memorized the path yet, as the older students have had years to do. That probably has something to do with why we catch less and less older students out of bed each year. If you sneak out even once a month, after a few years you'll have run into prefects a dozen times and can figure out where they'll be at what time. We're too predictable."

McGonagall nodded, sighing. "You're in favor, then, of a new route around the castle and the grounds?"

"I am."

"And would you and your partner, who also supports the change, be willing to work out this new route yourselves? I have no doubt that, between an old Slytherin troublemaker and a young lady who has been known to be able to sneak around Hogwarts enough to even get off grounds, you should be able to map a path that includes all of the weaknesses in the current route."

She could see a flicker of a smirk on Draco's face, little more than a twitch of the lips. This meant more time for patrols, learning and practicing the new route - this meant, likely, time outside of patrols in which they'd have to meet, probably in private, to map a route that only the prefects would know from now on. She had no choice. To refuse would be to alert everyone in the room to the fact that something bad was happening on their patrol nights, and then questions would be asked. She couldn't handle those questions. But what would it mean if she had to meet him more than the already mandatory twice a week? She still had no choice. "Yes, I'd be willing."

"Excellent. You'll begin this afternoon. One last thing, I'm attempting to keep this meeting short. Quidditch tryouts will take place next week, on varying days. Prefects that have been a part of teams in the past should take note that their previous team tryouts will not take place on either day they have scheduled for patrol, but that I cannot guarantee the availability of being able to try out for another team. As many of you have guessed, the Quidditch teams will also be of mixed houses. While a Slytherin is still a Slytherin, he will be accepted onto any other house team if he so chooses to tryout and is acceptable to the team captain. However, to maintain a sense of fairness, it will be noted that if any player is barred from a team based on his or her previous house affiliation, then the captain who so chooses to make such exclusions will have his or her captaincy removed. Are we clear?"

Though this seemed to be a less agreeable point than the planning of a new patrol route, the number of Quidditch playing Prefects in the room all nodded and mumbled their acceptance. Beside Hermione, Ron looked especially put out. This would mean having to open the team to anyone of any house, and he'd been hoping that the one thing that could remain pure was Quidditch, the most competitive and separative thing of them all.

At this McGonagall dismissed them, ending the meeting. As the eight prefects filed out of the room, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Ron was in front of her, which only left one person who would bother. She whirled around outside the door to see Draco, just as she'd suspected.

"Our responsibility to plot a new route. I wonder who could have suggested that to her."

"It wouldn't matter if you did, Malfoy. In all honesty and with both of our histories, we really would be the best two to plan a new route."

"Then my suggestion didn't fall on deaf ears. I've got something to pick up in my dormitory, and then we should meet and begin. I'd like to get some work done before dinner, don't you think?"

She nodded stiffly, feeling Ron slide his hand into hers. "You alright, Hermione? Hey, leave her alone Malfoy. She's tired."

Draco chuckled, turning on his heel. Only Hermione understood what he said as he walked away.

I bet she is.

Ron was perfectly fine with wandering the hallways for a few minutes, even daring to plant a chaste kiss on her lips when they briefly found themselves alone in a corner, no matter how bright it was. Hermione had immediately wanted to pull back, remembering where her mouth had been the night before and what Ron would think of her if he could somehow tell despite the fact that she'd brushed her teeth a total of six times since then, twice until her gums bled a little. There was no way he could tell, especially judging by the little smile on his face when he pulled back and lead her around the corner again. It was hardly a kiss, it hardly lasted a second, and that's what worried her. She'd found herself more excited by the forced, rushed, heated moments Draco had ordered onto her than she'd had in her entire relationship with Ron. It had seemed, since they'd returned to school, that Ron's excitement at their relationship had lessened considerably, and that she were now just an accessory as opposed to what she'd meant to him before, what he'd wanted that summer.

When she finally mustered the courage to return to the common room, she spotted Draco immediately. He wasn't surrounded by his usual minions at all, and instead chose to sit in the one solo chair in the room, in the dim back corner farthest from the window. On the small desk beside him, a small stack of parchment rolls sat next to a few quills and a half-empty bottle of ink.

"There's only an hour and a half until the next meal, so I'd prefer to start sooner rather than later." He barely looked in her direction. Ron gripped her hand, but she shook him off. She knew that this meeting could lead to Draco trying something else out on her, maybe something she wasn't ready for, but she couldn't let that fear show. She couldn't risk anyone else knowing about what plagued her.

"It's probably for the best. The sooner we start, the sooner it's over."

"Whatever you say, Granger."

She turned to Ron, who looked more than a bit put out. It was clear he'd wanted to spend more time with her. She wanted to spend time with her too, but everything that was happening was making things quite complicated. Perhaps they'd have some time after dinner, and if not she would plan it out so that she had a Draco-free weekend without patrol, meetings, or anything else.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'd love to stay, but you were at the meeting. It really must be done."

Ron nodded, frowning quite a bit at the floor. "Yeah, I get it. 'S fine. I'll go find Harry, he's got to be around somewhere and I've got to break the news about Quidditch to him eventually." He kissed her cheek, turning to climb the stairs to the dormitory two by two.

She watched him go until she heard Draco clear his throat behind her. "As McGonagall has made clear, this sort of planning can't be done out in the open. We'll have to find somewhere private."

"I understand exactly what you're saying Draco, and I don't need to hear it. I've known since the meeting, I've known exactly what this means. I don't like it, but you and I both know I have no other choice."

Draco raised a brow, without letting a hint of a smile betray his feelings. "Privacy is key, isn't it?"

He stood without waiting for her to answer what she knew to be a rhetorical question, gathering the things in his hands, and lead her back out the portrait hole. He walked ahead of her through a maze of corridors and down a half dozen sets of stairs until he finally opened a door, as far down as the dungeons but only half as depressing. It was just under the first floor, an odd sort of level with only a small window at the top of each of two walls. She knew these windows well from time spent out of the castle, but had never ventured to find out what room they belonged to, knowing that it was likely just a set of scarcely used practice rooms down the hall from the kitchens. It was due to the odd placement that this room had windows at all, and due to the nature of Hogwarts itself she knew that this room might only pop up every few days, if that often at all, making it an ideal room for hiding out in or, in this case, finding a private place to draw out a map and avoid commands.

And a practice room it was - low-ceilinged, roughly square, and half the size of a classroom. The windows didn't let in much light, seeing as how the sun was on the other side of the castle and setting quickly, but a few lamps on each of the walls allowed it to be light enough to see. Draco shut the door behind them, flicking his wand as he did, and a table and two chairs came from the walls into the center of the room, a lamp flying from a closet somewhere opposite them to rest in the center of the table. With another flick of his wand, the dirty windows closed the last inch that they'd been open, and Draco wordlessly set out the materials on the table. After arranging them to what was apparently a most ideal situation for him, he simply looked back at her.

"Are you coming, or not? We've got work to do."

"You're not going to force me to do something else?"

"I haven't decided yet. But you have to remember, Granger, I have a certain amount of strategy to keep too. For the moment, I quite like being the only one to know about your... dilemma. While you intend to keep your secret, as well as the secret of what has been happening, I do too. Which means that when we are assigned work, we have work to do, and no number of ridiculous ideas in either of our heads is enough to risk your problem being found out because we couldn't write a simple route through the castle. Are we understood?"

She nodded, blinking away tears. She had thought that it would be torture, but it wasn't. That was the entire problem. She should hate this, she should be desperately trying to escape this prison of a curse, but she wasn't. She was just trying to find a way to keep it from getting too far, too fast, and to keep it from being known by everyone. He was right.

"Now come on, Granger. Sit here beside me."

She felt her legs move forward, though she wouldn't have tried to deny this simple command. Draco rolled out a bit of parchment that had a layout of the ground floor of the castle, including the grounds.

"I've got maps of every floor and tower in the castle. I think it pertinent to mark the areas that we know, as we are, to be ideal for sneaking out, hiding out, or otherwise breaking rules before or after curfew. This includes the corridor that houses the Room of Requirement, the doors leading outside the castle, the many breakaway halls with practice rooms such as this, and the paths to the greenhouses, which I didn't know previous to this year are a sort of hideaway for sneaky Hufflepuffs who want to snog each other in trees. Ridiculous."

"There are so many places to hide out in Hogwarts, on so many different days... this is a big project."

"I wasn't aware of the scale of the thing until McGonagall handed me these maps, no." He shook his head, leaning forward to bend his head over the maps. She could smell him from here, he'd clearly showered recently. Something earthy, almost woodsy, and altogether far from what she'd thought. She'd been expecting him to reek of expensive cologne or aftershave, a favorite of most older Slytherin boys and some in Ravenclaw, but instead he smelled like he simply used a pleasant smelling soap.

"The bathrooms, too. The unused ones, especially. Moaning Myrtle's room, the bathroom on the sixth floor..."

"The one where Potter tried to kill me, I clearly remember that one." He rolled out the rest of the parchment, weighing down the corners with a sticking charm and taking notes where appropriate. "This castle is quite a spectacle. I must have gotten lost a hundred times in just the first month."

"It doesn't help that the path to a certain place may be different one year than the next."

"Or even the next day, of course. I once went from the Potions dungeon to Divination in less than three minutes."

Hermione started. "How on earth did you manage that? It took me at least eight minutes."

"That's probably because you're weighed down with half the library in your book back. But in all reality, I'm not sure. Another trick of the castle. I turned a corner expecting to find a back staircase I prefer using over the crowded main, and after one longer than usual flight up I found myself at the top of the North Tower. Another trick of Hogwarts itself."

"That's ridiculous."

"You're just jealous because Hogwarts never paid you any favors, Granger."

"That's not true! In Sixth year, when I was avoiding Ron eating Lavender's face off near a window, I thought to myself that I wished there were another way to get around them to Charms class, and a door slid into view on my left. I took it, and walked straight through into the end of the Charms corridor. I had been two floors up and halfway around the castle at the time."

"You're lying."

"I am not!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're making this too easy, Granger. Tell me you're lying."

She didn't like it - she hadn't been lying at all, and though she'd never told anyone else the way that the castle had done her a favor, she didn't like that even someone like Draco thought she was lying. But he'd ordered her to. "I... I'm lying."

"Tut tut, Granger. Lying is bad."

"I'm well aware. I wasn't."

"But you just admitted to it."

"On your orders."

He grinned. "Regardless. I don't like the way you're mouthing off, again, and while I'd love to relive a little of last night, we've got work to do so we'll handle this another way. Stand here beside me." He pushed his chair back, and as soon as she'd stood beside his legs he reached forward and pulled her school tie downwards so that her torso lay across his lap. She was aware of the fact that her skirt had ridden up, exposing her cheeky cut plain black cotton underwear. Draco seemed to have done this on purpose, as he leaded towards her body and peered behind her, flipping her skirt up the rest of the way so that it hung around her waist.

"Well, Granger. I'd expected something along the lines of what McGonagall would wear, but you've surprised me by being fractionally less modest than someone that ancient." He looked her over - the long planes of the backs of her thighs, thin and slightly pale. The surprising rise of a perky little bum, covered only halfway by a thin bit of black cotton. "You've been a bad girl, Granger."

"And you're being a cheesy git and I don't like it."

"I haven't even started yet. How do you know you won't like it?"

She was aware, now, of his plan. It should have been obvious. She'd never considered the idea - Ron was far from the sort of man who'd want to do something like that to her, and she was far from the sort of young woman who would want something like that done to her. Or so she'd thought, before she felt his fingers trail up the backs of her legs, stopping just short of the flesh of her bum.

"I just know."

"Well, it's not like you Granger to make an assumption without proper experimentation and studying. I'd rather try it out and make sure, and it'll be all the better for me to try instead of assume that you won't like it because you're usually such a wound up little prude."

The last comment stung. She wasn't a prude, she just wasn't as audacious as some girls. She'd known for quite some time that most girls in her year had gone much farther with boyfriends or flings. She was the only virgin in her dormitory. But what she'd been a part of for the last week was anything but angelic. She huffed, choosing to not say anything and make it worse for herself.

"I'm going to spank you, Granger. And if you speak against me again, or lie to me, I will spank you again, whenever I please, whenever I can find the time, until your arse is raw. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and he apparently saw it because his hand slid over the tops of her thighs and her bum, pulling the black cotton over her cheeks until she was fully exposed on both sides and his hand settled in the middle of her bum. He had large hands, and when one of them gently squeezed one globe of flesh on one side, it was all she could do to stifle a small gasp. How could Draco gripping her bum be sexual? It was just a bum, and...

His hand pulled away for a fraction of a second, before it smacked back against her cheeks. It didn't hurt, but she knew it was just a warmup as he ran his palm lightly over the spot he'd just smacked. It had still made her jump a little, and he reached one hand back under her torso to grab at her school tie and hold her in place while he drew his other hand back and brought it back down again before running his hand over her a few seconds. This time it stung, he'd hit much harder. He drew back again, this time hitting the hardest so far, so that she let out a little cry from the smarting. Strangely enough, she didn't want to cry, she didn't want to shout. And the soothing that happened between spanks, the few moments where his fingers deftly brushed over her stung skin, gave her enough time to nearly anticipate the next smack. His hold on her tie didn't make it any easier for her, because she found herself struggling against it only for the sake of struggling, and it in no way hurt her or displeased her.

She was a goner. Why was it that curiosity always won out? Why did women enjoy this? Why was she enjoying this? He brought his hand back down a fourth time, then moved his hand and let his fingers brush the underside of her bum.

Without a seconds hesitation, without the full knowledge of her brain, her body betrayed her and she pushed her hips back into his hand. She heard him chuckle, his fingers tracing the bottom of her flesh.

"Ah, mouthy Granger likes being spanked. I should have known, really, what with the way you're a glutton for self-punishment and all things painfully awful. You practically torture yourself half the time anyway, I should have expected that you'd enjoy this." She could hear the smile in his voice, and it was all but disgusting.

She didn't have time to retort as he spanked her once more in a flash, quicker than before. The small cry of the smarted skin turned into a garbled shout, something she couldn't quite identify. She panted, drawing in deep breaths while his free hand roamed her smooth bum. The hand on her bum shifted down, down, down until she knew suddenly what he was aiming for. Instead of a full on attack, however, his fingers barely brushed two fleshy lips that stuck out just at the apex of her thighs. She couldn't help it, there was one word for what she did then - she quivered, especially when his fingertip slip easily against a pool of moisture that had likely appeared over the last few minutes.

"First you make it too easy, then you make it too difficult. It's hard for me to remain where I am right now, to draw out this little game. I could just... but I won't. That's enough for now." He let go of her tie and instructed her to stand again. When she did, he instructed her to sit on his lap for the remainder of their meeting, which she immediately thought was childish despite the fact that her knees were already bending and she was already seated nicely across his legs.

He grinned with an air that was equal to patting her on the head, and pointed to the desk in front of them. "Now, back to the maps."

Though the next hour had been considerably short on demands, Hermione had still felt as uncomfortable as ever while she'd sat on Draco's lap. He would shift every once in a while, his hips pressing up against her, until he settled back down again and ran fingertips up her thighs. It had heightened her senses to the point at which when they had spent the remainder of their time marking the easiest spots to sneak around and they finally left the room, Hermione nearly ran the other direction when she saw Harry and Ron walking a few steps ahead of her in a corridor. Would they be able to tell? They hadn't known anything was off that morning, but it hadn't been so soon after. Just five minutes ago she'd been sitting on Draco's lap, he'd been touching her legs, making her skin crawl a little in a way that wasn't completely unpleasant. Her skin still stung over her bum, and she knew it would be at least red if there weren't a serious outline of his hand on her. After a few moments hesitation, she called out to her best friends. Not calling them would be more suspicious than how jumpy she felt, and she had a question to ask Harry anyway.

Luckily they were already on the subject of Quidditch, talking about players from all four houses and who they would most like to see on a team. It seemed Rons bad attitude about mixed house teams had all but disappeared as he had realized that it meant that all the best players from the houses would be trying to form their own teams. Though there wouldn't be an official cup as of now, since McGonagall considered it too much of a competitive icon in the school, it went without saying that the teams would be marking their own victories and points to decide who would have won the cup.

"So anyone can join, then?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and instead of one or two players trying to switch, it's madness. Demelza Robbins isn't sure she wants to play for Gryffindor, and she says that most of the Slytherin team is disbanding and attempting to make their own teams with the best players."

Harry grunted. "And the only thing we know so far is that there are four captains, one from each of the previous houses, and that we're all basically stuck. Me, Draco Malfoy, Zacharias Smith, and Michael Corner. Unless one of them chooses to give up their captaincy to join another team, and that's unlikely except for Corner, we're all basically going to have to fight over the best players. If one good player tries out for a few different teams, and all of them want him - or her - then there's going to be a lot of trouble as to who gets who."

"Whom, Harry. It's whom." At least she could correct Harry properly while she was this distracted. She'd only thought of one thing Draco had said while looking over the maps. "But Malfoy said something earlier - something about Slytherin's team not doing exactly as everyone thought. I think they might be trying to plant people into different teams to... I don't know, I don't know Quidditch, but give up secrets or something. Or to toss games."

"Matches, Hermione. But yeah, we've thought about that." Ron shook his head. "It's unfortunate really. Hey, five minutes until dinner. Should head that way, I'm starving..."

Hermione allowed herself to fall behind the boys for a moment, thankful for a moment to herself. Last night she'd been able to sleep between seeing anyone, today she hadn't had that privilege. At least she had the weekend before she had to see Malfoy again, since they wouldn't have patrol until that night and he hadn't mentioned meeting after her lone Saturday class to work on the maps. Or not.

Harry and Ron had just walked away, down towards the Quidditch pitch to scope out the scene they'd missed so much. Hermione had recently realized that it was different for them than the other players - while Quidditch hadn't happened last year, obviously, other players had occasionally been able to see the pitch, to feel that little bit of motivation and happiness. Harry and Ron hadn't had that, and she figured that their first view of the pitch in a year and a half should be left private. They hadn't played Quidditch on this pitch since before Dumbledore died - that was a rather large shock, even to her.

Saturday classes had been paradise. No classes with Malfoy meant no uncomfortable scenes, no remembering. He hadn't bothered her since the afternoon previous. Sunday had started well, too. She'd spent the day studying and in her dorm with her dormmates. Though she still didn't talk to them as much as they talked to each other, she found herself conversing a little more comfortably with them after what they'd all been through - and, of course, because Hermione had a boyfriend now and they had many, many questions. Lavender ignored those bits of conversation, and Hermione could tell the girl was still hurt over what had happened so long ago. Still, it was nice having people to talk to besides Harry and Ron, even if the conversations that Hermione took place in were few and far between. Having female friends was a bit weird, actually. After a while she'd gone to find Harry and Ron, and had spent some time walking near the lake with them before they announced that they simply must see the pitch.

She walked quickly and carefully through the corridors. Saturday had been Malfoy-free. She only had a few hours left, of course, until she had to retire to her dormitory and await the dawning of Monday and another day of patrol, but they were going to be a blissful few hours spent in total control of her own body.

"Stop."

Damn.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I'd been looking for you. Thought we could work on the map a little."

"I don't want to work this afternoon. Tomorrow, maybe, on patrol. We can work out a few possible new routes."

"We could. But there's just something I must discuss with you."

"What, your little friends didn't want to play with you today?"

"My friends are busy, with things that are of none of your business. Your business, right now, is to follow me. So follow me."

She'd only been a minute from the door to the common room.

"Can't you just leave me alone, for one day?" Her feet planted themselves one in front of the other, right behind Draco.

"I did. Saturday was a day all your own. Two days, though, two days is quite a bit to handle. Especially after your... display on Friday."

"The display where you flipped my skirt up?"

"The display when you pushed your arse back into my hand."

Right. That one. "You're revolting."

"Says the girl who pushed her hips back into me. Up."

She climbed the stairs with him, up two flights to the top of the Astronomy tower. He lead her around a corner, out towards a terrace with a roof and shoulder-height walls with no windows at the top. The breeze rolling over the top was frigid, and Hermione kept her arms folded over her chest for warmth.

"Granger, Granger... you know, I've been thinking about Friday. I've been thinking about the words you've used. Revolting, disgusting, git, and the like. But then I remember the way you've never once yelled out, despite the fact that I only gave that order the first night we met like this. I think of the way you pushed back into my hand, and the wetness I felt when I chose to explore a little further. Everything that comes out of your mouth indicates that you hate me and what I am doing, but everything you do says otherwise. There have been commands - specific, carefully worded demands that you could have acted out a thousand different ways, and yet your actions spoke volumes. Part of you, no matter how disgusted, likes this. Part of you wants this, despite your relationship with the Weasel. I'm entirely sure that he has no idea what's happening, and even though I could order you to tell him everything - the truth or my own made up story - I won't.

"Instead, I think we'll just keep... experimenting. You enjoy it, though you probably won't even admit it to yourself, and I enjoy it, and the thrill that comes with being in control. You were one hundred percent right on that one, Granger, consider it the passing of a very important test. If you'd like, I could give you your prize now. Would you like that? Tell me."

"No. Just... sod off, Malfoy."

"That's not what I want to hear. I know you've enjoyed bits of this. You can either accept your prize willingly and make it that much better for you, or we can do things my way. Do you want your prize?"

"No."

"Then consider this a test failed, and consider this your punishment." He closed the space between them, turning her around and pressing her face-first into the wall. The stone felt cool against her cheek but it was rough, and she was reminded of this when he pressed his face to the side of her head, his nose tracing a line up her cheek.

"Granger, Granger... so smart, but when will you ever learn? With something like Pareo going against you, it's better to just make things as pleasant as you can." His hands gripped her wrists, bringing them up above her head on the wall and pinning them there with his right hand. It was at times like this, she knew, that his height would be beneficial to him. His body pressed up against hers, his free hand tracing down her arm, her back, briefly swiping the side of her chest and her side before stopping on her hip, his fingers pressing into the front of her hip bone as he pulled her to him.

"This was going to go a lot differently... in your favor, even. But you still haven't learned to keep your mouth shut."

She pressed back into him, half to attempt to get herself out from under him, half because the pressure of his body felt exquisite. "How am I supposed to lose control if you're so busy controlling me?"

He chuckled behind her, his fingers crawling forward until they met with the waistband of her skirt. "You let me worry about that, silly girl. I've got plans for you yet..." His fingers dove under the band of her skirt, snaking downwards and stopping just short of an area she wasn't sure if she wanted him to touch. His fingers brushed the smooth skin there, just touching the short bristle of not-so-recently shaven hair.

"Haven't cleaned up in a while? Haven't had a reason to? Is your sad little boyfriend not paying you any attention anymore? Tell me."

"No."

"So I've been the only one touching you for days? The only one doing this to you? Tell me."

"Yes."

"Interesting... cheating on the boyfriend, and he isn't even getting what I'm getting. Poor Ron. I'm sure he'd love to have you back yourself up against him, too."

His hand pulled back out of her skirt from the top and then ran over her hip, backwards, to where the skirt ended at her bottom. His fingers crept up the skin there, and a tingling sensation radiated out from wherever he touched. In an instant, his hand grasped at her, his fingers diving under the fleshy mounds to the small pool of dampness that again gave away her excitement. There was such a perfect pressure behind his fingertips that he seemed to press at the fabric of her underwear without hurting or pushing inwards at all. The movement of his hand, a slow grabbing movement, moved his fingertips over the damp spot over and over, not only spreading it over the fabric but more likely creating even more moisture for him to notice. She bit her lip, not hesitating at all to press herself against his hand. The moment the idea came to her - she wished her underwear were gone, despite the fact that this simultaneously repulsed her and made her fall apart at the seams - his hand pulled away. He used it to turn her over, pushing her back against the wall while keeping her hands high above her head. She followed his eyes down to her chest, which rose and fell with her breaths, and to the two hard nipples standing out against the cold air. She never wore padded bras, didn't see the appeal, but now was the first time she wished she owned them. He raised his brows, stepping in again to push himself against her and her chest. In the moment before she could speak or even catch her breath, his mouth was on hers.

She'd definitely never been snogged like this before - slowly, carefully, but with all the urgency that she'd come to not expect from her own boyfriend. Draco's mouth played with hers, and she found herself quickly giving in, closing her eyes, and enjoying the few moments that hadn't felt like an attack. Too soon, it ended, and it left her gasping for breath.

"Tell me, Granger, what you think of all this."

Her lips moved without her permission. "It's strange. I don't want to like it, I shouldn't like it. But I'm curious. And some parts of it... some things, I like." She kept her eyes closed, unable to say such things to his face.

"Good. Then I'll continue to teach you, to feed your curiosity. What you don't get with Ron Weasley, you'll get with me. And as long as you cooperate, you'll like it. The second you act or speak against me, though, our meetings will begin to revolve around me and my needs with little to no regard for your comfort. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Her eyelids kept together, struggling to stay closed instead of to open and watch his reaction.

His hands released her and she stayed put for a long moment, preparing to open her eyes and face him. When she finally got the nerve, however, she turned to see that she was alone. He'd gone.
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Pareo: Obey