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Cast No Shadow	By : ColdWaterFairy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
AN: For you, miahdrake, I hope you like.
Paigeey07 - I'm so glad I've gone from fine to good to great. It strokes my ego nicely.
Willow - I hope I don't disappoint.
Hermione let herself into the house that she and Harry shared. He had left a light on for her. She smiled. He really was the most considerate person. She walked quickly and quietly to the guest bathroom. All she wanted to do was get out of these clothes; her skin crawled when she remembered the smile and the look in Draco's eyes, like he wanted to own her soul and then break it into a million different pieces. She was so stupid for having let her guard down even for a moment with him.

He was just such an enigma. He said the most hateful things to her, making her feel cheap, ugly, and stupid. But then he pulled a chair out for her, and he had one of the most beautiful libraries she'd ever seen. Maybe she wanted him to be part human because she didn't want to admit she was slightly (and she meant slightly as in a miniscule amount) attracted to a complete monster. She finished undressing and brushed her teeth with her spare toothbrush that she always kept in the guest bath. She skittered naked through the rest of the house turning off the lights before finally crawling into bed. Harry rolled over to spoon her.

Upon finding her naked he smiled into her hair. He brushed his fingertips back and forth from her knee to her hip, knowing full well that it would soon make her whimper with need. It wasn't long before she pinned him on his back and stripped off his pajama bottoms. She ran her hands over his chest and then down to grasp his cock and guide it into her already wet passage. She sighed with contentment as he filled her. This was what she craved, the time when he was moving inside of her making her feel like the most loved and cherished person in the world.

She moved with him. When he felt her getting close to release he flipped her on her back and picked up the speed. He would never get enough of the look she got on her face each time she climaxed. Her eyes would open and her breath would catch, her arms pulling him as close as possible into her as she said his name like a prayer. He was never far behind her. With his mouth on her neck and one last thrust he spilled his seed in her and said her name just as reverently back to her. Before rolling off her he whispered into her ear, "I love you. You complete me."

Hermione would never stop feeling privileged every time he professed that he loved her. She whispered back to him, "I'm broken without you." They fell asleep with the contentment of knowing they were not alone.
Draco finished knotting his tie in front of the mirror. Damn, he thought. He couldn't look any better even if he tried. He wanted to look good when he told Granger the exact details of his plan of action. A shiver of excitement ran through him. He was so gleefully happy he was even humming. Malfoys didn't hum; they were much too dignified. But this called for a celebration. He just hoped that the moment she realized she was getting screwed (literally and figuratively) by him she would whimper. He was going to break Potter's whore. He had already cleared his plan with the Minister of Magic. Was it his fault he'd forgotten to add a few details here and there? He had a lot on his plate.

He had been warned, and not very subtly, that he was to treat Hermione Granger with the utmost respect, given the situation, and she'd better not end up hurt or it was his ass. He didn't really care. She would never rat him out. She would be much too ashamed of what had happened. By the time he returned her to Potter she would hate herself so completely that Potter wouldn't even be able touch her because she'd know she was no longer worthy of his love. Every time Potter touched her she'd remember him touching her; when she orgasmed she'd remember when he had had her begging him for release. He would have broken her, body and soul. Her guilt over her actions would drive her to leave Potter. He wouldn't understand and Hermione wouldn't be able to explain to him. She wouldn't be able to handle seeing the hatred and disgust that would wash over his face when he realized his most hated enemy had defiled her. Draco walked back to his desk to compose his summons, his hands shaking with excitement.
Hermione woke to Harry bringing her breakfast in bed. "Good morning, love," he said as he settled the tray over her lap.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't have to do this!"

He smiled. "I know." Hermione studied his face. He seemed anxious, very nervous, like he wanted to tell her something but he wasn't sure how she'd take it.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied. He shoved the morning paper at her. She smiled and took it from him, reaching for her coffee at the same time. It wasn't until she'd taken a sip and was about to put the coffee back down that she noticed the ring that had been hidden underneath the coffee cup. She gasped, her eyes instantly flying to Harry's. He picked up the ring with one hand and gripped her coffee cup with the other, setting it down on the tray which he then gently pushed to the side. Getting down on one knee by the side of the bed, he picked up her left hand and looked at her earnestly.

"Hermione, you are the love of my life. Every day my love for you grows, filling me with blessings I never imagined. The highlights of my day are waking up and falling asleep next to you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Hermione couldn't breath, she was crying so hard. All she could do was nod her head yes. Harry laughed and slipped the ring onto her finger. She pulled him to her, needing to touch every inch of him. She didn't care that the breakfast tray went crashing to the floor, breaking dishes and spilling food everywhere. She didn't care that she would be terribly late for work. She was so deliriously happy. She was going to marry her best friend and the love of her life.
Draco was seething mad. Where was she? He'd sent his note over an hour ago. How dare she make him wait like this? Who was she to make her superior—in every sense of the word—wait? It was then that there was a knock on his door. Finally, he thought. Schooling his features into a cool mask of disdain, he bid the person to enter. He nearly swore a blue streak when Mrs. Howell walked in.

"Hello, sir. I was hoping to get your signature on these." She dropped five rolls of parchment on his desk.

"Fine," he said tersely. Grabbing the first roll, he jabbed his quill viciously into the ink pot and signed his name, then did the same with the other four rolls. It wasn't lost on Mrs. Howell that her boss was not happy. She quickly scooped up the rolls and made a beeline for the door.

"Please tell Ms. Granger I would like to see her immediately," he said to her retreating back. Mrs. Howell turned around but didn't meet his eyes.

"She's not in yet, sir; it's most odd. She's never been late before. She never struck me as the tardy type."

Draco frowned. Where the devil was she? Had she seen too much in his eyes last night? Was she scared to come in?

Just then Hermione appeared in the doorway. Tugging her suit jacket down, she walked forward into his office. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Please accept my apologies." She brushed her hair back with her left hand. Draco was about to give her a piece of his mind when Mrs. Howell let out an uncharacteristic squeal and dropped all the parchments she'd been holding.

"Hermione," she practically yelled, grabbing Hermione's left hand, "you've got engaged to Harry Potter!" Hermione looked scared for a second. She was looking at Mrs. Howell like she'd never seen the witch before.

"Err, yes, as of this morning. That's why I'm late. I'm really sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, dearest, we understand perfectly." Draco wanted to shout that no, "we" were not fine with it. He felt something snap inside of him and suddenly had to sit down. He was seeing red. Literally—his vision was narrowing. Once again that little Mud-blood whore had managed to take away his fun. He was sick of it. Well, he would just have to revise his original agenda. He had intended to tell her all the details of the plan and watch her squirm and cry, and let her get used to the idea of what they were going have to do. He couldn't do that any more. She was probably so ecstatic about getting engaged that nothing would faze her. He wanted to break her neck. The thought of her limp, lifeless body really appealed to him right now.

Mrs. Howell was happily chattering away, oblivious to to any dark undercurrents. Hermione was looking at Draco over the top of the older woman's head. She, unlike the stupid witch in front of her, knew that he was angry—nay, livid. She grabbed Mrs. Howell's arm and started urging her towards the door while saying, "I think we should leave and come back later."

Draco stood up. "No—you stay, she can leave." Mrs. Howell finally realized there was a lot of tension and animosity in the room. She didn't need to be told twice to leave. She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and whispered as she walked past, "Come find me later." She closed the door behind her.

Draco glared at Hermione. He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit," he commanded. She didn't like being ordered about like a dog—again—but she knew now was not the time to bring that up. She sat. Draco came around from behind the desk to lean against the front of it. Hermione was actually leaning back in her chair in an effort to distance herself from him. The message rolling off him was crystal clear: he wanted to hurt somebody. Hermione had a good idea that that somebody was her.

"Don't think for a second that just because you're engaged now you don't have to be my mole."

This is what has him so upset? "I had no intention of backing out."

He looked like he didn't believe her. "Seeing as you were late, I don't intend to share my plan with you."

Hermione shot to her feet, angry now herself. "You don't get to punish me because I have a life."

"Is that what you call it?" he snarled. "I'd call it you being a slut." Oh, he'd seen the purple marks on her neck when she'd brushed her hair back.

Hermione looked like he had slapped her. She stood up and got in his personal space. See how he likes it, she thought. She poked her finger into his chest. "You don't get to call me a whore. What I do with my soon-to-be husband is none of your concern."

This bushy-haired nitwit actually thought she could touch him? Before Hermione could step back, Draco grabbed her face with one hand.

"Don't touch me," he told her, his voice deadly calm. "I am in charge here, not you. I expect you to show up on time and show your superior some respect." He released her. She had red finger-marks on her face from where he'd held her. He walked back behind his desk and took a seat. She sat back down in her chair. He had no doubt that she would probably kill him right now if she thought she could get way with it.

"Now, because I don't want you running to Potter complaining that I'm keeping you in the dark, or telling him I'm trying to kill you, I'll give you a concise breakdown of what our two-week operation will entail. We know that they target young Muggle women between the ages of eighteen and thirty, of all nationalities. All of them have worked at some point in a strip club. They all had no family, so when they are taken no one really notices; they're just assumed to have picked up and left. Through research we have found that most of the women taken have come from one club, called Oasis. They're not high-class whores, but they're not seedy either. Men don't want drug addicts—who knows what they might have?"

He said it as an afterthought, but Hermione glared. How dare he be so cavalier about someone's life? He looked at her and laughed, knowing he'd made her angry. "Now, the plan is for you get a job there." Hermione's eyes bugged out. "Don't worry, Granger, I seriously doubt anyone but Potter wants to see you naked. No, I was thinking more as a waitress."

Just as she started to relax he said, "You might have to take some clothes off if you're not taken soon enough, though. We're working a tight two-week timeline."

"I'm not taking off my clothes, Malfoy!"

He smiled, noticing she'd actually called him by his name for the first time. "We'll see. The plan after you're taken is for another of our informants on the inside to buy you when you come up for sale." What he didn't tell her was that he himself would be the one to buy her, and she would be his sex slave. He had already planned that as soon as she was sold to him he would whisk her out and transport her to his house. Once they had left, the Aurors would go in and arrest all pertinent parties. It was a simple plan, but Draco wasn't one to embellish when simple worked just as well.

Hermione's mind was racing. Two weeks? What should she tell Harry? She wasn't too thrilled about having to work in a strip club, but as long as she didn't have to take her clothes off she would grit her teeth and go along with it. She was more worried about the auction part.

"How are you going to guarantee someone won't out-bid the informant?"

Draco had anticipated this question. "We have money, Granger. Don't get yourself worked up about it."

"My questions are valid, jackass. Quit acting like they're not."

"That's not how we talk to our superiors, Granger. Don't make me have to teach you manners." Hermione snorted her opinion of that comment. Draco reached to his left, picking up a box and sliding it towards her.

"You have an interview with the manager of the club in an hour. Go put this on." Hermione eyed the box as if it might be filled with snakes. Finally she sighed and got up, grabbed the box, and headed to the small bathroom off Draco's office. Once she'd shut the door Draco smiled. He had personally picked out her outfit. He'd tried to find a top she would hate. He thought he'd succeeded.

From the bathroom came "Hell no!" Yes, finally things were starting to get back on track. He'd been livid when he found out she was engaged to Potter but now, thinking about it, it would only make his conquest of her sweeter. His cock twitched just thinking about it.

Hermione stood in front of the mirror eyeing her reflection. This was not good. Inside the box was a pair of tight low-rider Muggle jeans. They weren't what she usually wore, but she could live with it. No, her problem was the top. Obviously a pervert of a man had designed it. It was gold and basically consistd of two U shaped pieces of material held together at the shoulders, and only an inch on either side. She couldn't wear her bra with it. Most of her stomach was exposed, and she was in danger of exposing herself at any second. It occurred to her then that that was exactly what Draco had in mind. She knew he had to have picked out this outfit himself.

A woman would have gone sexy with it but in a classy way—not a top that screamed easy lay. But the more Hermione looked at herself, the more she noticed how attractive she looked. She didn't think she was ugly. She had grown into herself; her hair wasn't as bushy as it had been, but Mother Nature was what she was, and no amount of Muggle anti-frizz serum or magical charm could tame it. Her body was on the thin side but she still had her woman's curves. She had a B-cup and she thought that was very respectable. She couldn't even begin to imagine the nightmare if she'd been even one cup size larger. The gold color of the material made her skin glow and her hair look less dull. She guessed she could thank Draco for at least picking a color that looked good on her. She ran her hands down her body. As her hands skimmed her breasts, her nipples hardened. She felt sexy and desirable. She was having a moment she didn't have often. She was embracing her power as a woman, knowing that she could make men's knees weak. It was enough for her to know that she made Harry's knees weak without skanky tops. She grabbed the gold ballet flats that had come in the box and put them on. How had he guessed her sizes so well?

"Are you coming out sometime this century or are you too scared?" Malfoy's voice startled her to attention. Wait! When had she stopped referring to him as "him" or "her boss" and starting using his name? Get a grip, Hermione. He's not to be trusted, she thought. He wanted to see her, did he? Well, she'd give him an eyeful, even if he made her skin crawl and tingle at the same time. She opened the door and stepped out.

Draco looked up at the sound of the door opening. His breath caught in his throat and his blood rushed south. The jeans hugged her legs perfectly. The waist barely covered her femininity, and if she reached up he would get a peek. The piéce de la résistance was the gold top. When she moved he caught a glimpse of her creamy breasts. If she bent forward she would be complete exposed. He couldn't take his gaze off her breasts. He visualized in his head what they might look like—his hands caressing them, watching her nipples harden at his attention. He wondered what she would taste like if he took them into his mouth. Would she arch against him, seeking the heat of his mouth to ease their soreness? Before he knew what he was doing he was standing in front of her, drinking her in. Her eyes looking steadily back at him.

He reached out a fingertip and ran it down the space between her breasts. She shivered. The back of his hand skimmed the underside of her right breast. She gasped and stepped back. Her body betrayed her, showing that she'd enjoyed his touch. He smirked and she grew angry. He wasn't supposed to have this effect on her. Only Harry had the right to touch her like that, even more so after this morning. Her gaze moved to the ring on her left hand. Draco followed her gaze. He liked the fact that she responded to his touch. Maybe he wouldn't have to persuade her too much once he brought her back to his place.

He grabbed her hand and took off the engagement ring, pocketing it. "You can't wear that into the interview. Also we're going to have to do something about your appearance."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he drawled like he was talking to an idiot. "Everyone knows who Harry Potter is and you, being his girlfriend and one of his closest friends, have received a fair amount of publicity. I can't risk the chance that someone will recognize you as Potter's slag."

Hermione was about to tell him what she thought about being called a slag when he brought his hand up with his wand in it and muttered something. She felt the shimmer of magic rain down on her body. She looked down and realized her worst nightmare. The pervert had made her chest bigger! She turned around and went back into the bathroom to check her appearance. Her dull brown hair had been lightened to a sandy blond, her eyebrows groomed into high arches, her mouth made fuller, and she now had makeup on her face. It was subtle, thank God. Her body had become curvier. She looked like herself, yet not. She didn't know what to think. She kept looking at herself, fascinated by how a few minor adjustments of her features could bring about such a difference.

"Are you done getting your rocks off with yourself yet? We need to leave."

"Will you do me a favor and drop dead?" When no sarcastic comment came her way she looked at him.

"I can't die, Granger, when I'm already dead." She didn't have a reply. "We need to think of an alias for you." Hermione suggested the name Jane. "Your ability to be creative blows my mind."

"Fine," she huffed. "What's your suggestion, then?"

"I think Athena has a nice ring to it."

Hermione thought about it. "Okay, Athena it is."

Draco pulled her to him, holding her close. She was about to protest, but then realized they were about to Disapparate.
Hermione was finishing packing her bag, triple-checking she had everything. Harry sat on the bed watching her. She'd been feeling guilty since that day in Malfoy's office three days ago. How could she have let him touch her? And her treacherous body had liked it! She'd come home and told Harry she had to go on a business trip. Which was true, and he did know that her job entailed some degree of secrecy as he was the one who'd set it up for her. He didn't press her for details, asking only that she be careful and check in with him every two days if possible. This would be the first time they'd been apart since they'd officially got together. She was so used to his presence in her life. Knowing that he was never far off, she was almost scared to venture off by herself.

She zipped up her bag and sat down on Harry's lap. Tilting her head, she pressed her forehead to his. "I'll dream of you every night." His reply was to kiss away her tears.

Draco had found her an apartment not far from Oasis. It was a tad run down, but she knew it had to be so to add authenticity to her ruse. She was there unpacking her clothes when there was a knock at her door. She figured it had to be Malfoy (she had just given in and started calling him that), since no one else knew where she was. She opened the door for him and turned back to finishing unpacking. She didn't feel any need to make small talk with the jerk. She was starting her first night of work at the club that night; her "uniform" was laid out on the bed. Draco eyed it and laughed.

"Don't you have a life?" she asked.

"My work is my life, and currently you are my work." Hermione wondered what it felt like to have a life that consisted of nothing but work. How lonely that must be. Dammit, she was doing it again—trying to make him human when she knew he wasn't. To her he really was the embodiment of the phrase cold-hearted.

After unpacking she sat in a chair across the room from the bed where he was sitting. After several minutes of silence Hermione decided to just read a book and wait until it was time to leave for the club. She wished he would leave, but obviously ignoring him didn't bother him. After reading a chapter she looked at him in exasperation. "May I inquire as to why you're still here?"

"I came to make sure everything went off without a hitch. I'll be here when you get back so I can debrief you."

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to be in his presence; he did strange things to her emotions. She alternated between unadulterated loathing and being weirdly drawn to him. He had a magnetism that her mind might say no to, but her body wouldn't listen.

Hermione was jerked awake by Draco shaking her shoulder. "Hey, it's time to get dressed and go to the club."

Hermione got up and grabbed her uniform and trudged into the bathroom. She slipped on the black nylons and then pulled on the tight black shorts that barely covered her ass. She put on a green shimmery bra-top that left two-thirds of her stomach exposed. She felt like a whore and knew the feeling would intensify once she was at work and men were ogling and touching her. She steeled her nerves, remembering that it was for the greater good. She put on a little makeup and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

When she walked back out she noticed Draco's gaze going straight to her chest. He couldn't even try and be subtle, the pig! She felt exposed and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide from his gaze. "You'd better get use to it, love. You're going to have men staring all the time." She shrugged on her coat and grabbed her purse; she was about to pick up her wand but stopped herself. She walked out the door without saying goodbye.

Over the next several days a routine was established. Draco came to her flat before she left for work and stayed until she got home, then left after she told him of the night's events. It was hard work being a waitress. She came home too exhausted to argue with him when he made snide comments. She was really hoping he would be quick and leave. Her feet were killing her, and some guy had spilled his beer on her only to use it as an excuse to paw her breasts in an attempt to "clean her off".

She walked in, dropping her purse, coat, and keys on the floor. Draco lay on the couch in the combination kitchen/living room, reading a book. He looked up at her when she came in and sat up on the couch to make room for her. She sat down and, not even thinking, put her feet in his lap.

"They'd better hurry up and snatch me because I'm about to go mental."

Draco didn't say anything, just looked at her feet in his lap. Hermione sighed. "It feels so good to be off my feet I swear they feel like they're going to fall off."

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Draco untied her shoes and took them off, tossing them on the floor. He picked up one of her feet and started to rub his thumb along her instep. She let out a moan of pleasure. His head snapped up and he looked at her. Her eyes were closed and she had a soft smile on her face. She scooted down a little more, pushing her foot into his hands. All he knew was that he wanted her to moan again. It was hot. He was using both his hands now, working her foot for several minutes before switching to the other.

Draco was burning up. All he could think about was burying his shaft hilt-deep in her. He started to move his hands up her leg, messaging her calf. She didn't stop him. Her eyes were still closed. He slowly worked his hand up her leg to her thigh. She opened her eyes then; they were heavy-lidded with sedation. His were hot with lust. She started to say something but he cut her off, grabbing her leg and pulling her further down the couch so he could rise over her and press his lips to hers. She stiffened and pushed against his chest. He ignored her protests and swept his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues were at war with each other, but he won. He moved his hand up to her breast, hardly concealed in her uniform. Her nipples were already hard. He pinched them slightly and was rewarded with a hiss.

"Stop, what you are doing? We can't do this."

"Says who?" was his reply.

"Me! I don't...." She stopped mid-sentence when Draco pulled the material away from her breast so he could put his mouth on her. She cried out and arched, just like he'd imagined she would. He continued to suckle her for a moment before returning to her mouth. He was hell-bent on breaking through her resistance. He ravished her mouth, and when he was done with that he marked her neck, making damn sure that when she looked in the mirror tomorrow she would see the evidence of what she'd done with him and remember how she'd liked it.

He reached a hand between their bodies to touch her intimately, rubbing her with the heel of his hand. He needed to get her out of her shorts and nylons. He rose up on his knees and grabbed the waist of her shorts and yanked them off. She wasn't wearing underwear under her nylons. He gazed down at her. He didn't know how it was possible, but he got even harder. He ran his hands up and down her thighs before grabbing the waist of her nylons and sliding them down her legs. Now she was half bared to his eyes, and he couldn't breathe.

"What are you doing to me, Granger?" Her answer was to run her foot over his erection. Draco's control snapped. He spread her legs and lowered his head. He used his hand to pull back her outer folds, his tongue finding her sensitive nub. Her hands came up to grasp a fistfull of his hair. She tugged him up to look at her. He could see the conflict raging inside of her. She was hot and wet for him, but her mind just wouldn't go along.

"You're casting shadows over me, Draco, and I don't know if I'll survive."

He didn't understand what she meant. But she'd said his name. It had been so long since anyone had. He moved up her body to recapture her mouth. Her hands moved from his hair to cup his face and she kissed him back. He needed her naked and panting his name. He yanked her top off over her head.

"You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he told her reverently.

He stood up and repositioned her so she was sitting up and then he spread her legs, pressing kisses into the inside of her thigh. He slid a finger into her at the same time he put his mouth on her clit and she jerked violently. He slowly moved his finger in and out of her, stretching her so he could add a second finger.

"God, yes, Draco, that feels so good. Please go faster." Her wish was his command. He picked up the tempo. She was panting now, alternating between pushing his head away and pulling it closer. He felt her muscles lock and knew she was about to climax. Her hands left his hair to grab the back of the couch. She bucked against his hand and mouth. "Draco!" she sobbed. He lapped up her juices, sticking his tongue inside her as the last tremors of her orgasm left her body.

He pulled away and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She'd tasted better than he thought she would. As he stood looking down at her, his emotions became complicated. Part of him wanted nothing more than to unbutton his trousers and fuck her to kingdom come. He wanted to punish her and to make her feel pain. He wanted her broken. The other half, the disturbing half, wanted know if it was better with him than when Potter did it. He wanted her to want him like she wanted Potter. He shook his head. This isn't part of the plan. Get it together, Malfoy, he thought. He glanced down at the couch to find that Hermione had fallen asleep during his musing. He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. She must have been really exhausted from work because she didn't stir. He pulled the duvet over her, but not before he took one last look. He knew he should leave immediately but he was too shaken. He moved the chair closer to the bed so he could watch her sleep. When she turned over a while later, the ring on her hand caught the light and his attention, reminding him she wasn't his to keep. He swore and stood up. What the fuck was he doing? Getting all emotional over Potter's whore? It was time to leave. He gathered his things and without a backwards glance he left the flat.
AN: Finally a little smut. I hope it will be enough to hold you over until the next chapter. I hope you liked the contrasting love scenes. I'm not trying to make Harry the good guy or Draco the bad guy, I'm trying to reflect how their interactions with Hermione affects the style of writing during sexual encounters.
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