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Black Widow	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 35493 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own HP, JKR does. I make no money doing this but I do get carpel tunnel.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
He studied her as she stood there, unable to slump down due to the placement of her hands. Her breasts heaved up and down as she tried to get herself under control. He’d have to move soon. She didn’t need control. But he was enjoying the way her blouse tightened with every movement. When she had stopped breathing heavily, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, mentally sulking when she went stiff.
He drew his lips over her jaw and down her neck, trying not to chuckle when she leaned into his touch. As much as she hated this, she was enjoying it as well. If he could disengage her mind completely, she’d be so much closer. And since she’d talked so long earlier, she’d be more amenable to just feeling. So he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed further, thanking Merlin she was wearing a bra that clasped in the front. He undid the clasp and nuzzled the underside of her breasts for a few minutes, letting her relax into the sensations. Then he pulled back and stared at the mirror again. He wanted to be in his right mind for this.
The ripple appeared again. He gave the mirror a slight nod and parted her blouse, using a sticking charm to hold it behind her. Then he stepped back and centered himself. She looked beautiful, her breasts jiggling as she panted, shirt askew, hair falling out of the tight bun she’d had it in. She looked debauched… but not nearly enough. He needed to push the envelope.
He drew her skirt up over her hips, revealing black lace knickers that made his cock throb. He fought it down, pinning her skirt to her waist with a sticking spell. He debated on the best way to push her to the edge and decided that since she’d taken the spanking so well, he could go in a similar direction. But he didn’t know what that bastard that captured her had done and he didn’t want to bring back bad memories.
It came to him when he stuck his hand in his pocket and found a silk handkerchief. He took it out with a smirk that sent Hermione into a fit of shivers. Good. The darkness in him swirled and he closed his eyes to fight it back. It felt like he was walking on razor blades, trying to stay in control without losing her or himself. When the darkness retreated, he took a deep breath and transfigured the handkerchief into a silk whip, relishing the terrified squeak that Hermione gave.
“What’s the matter, Granger? Scared of a little bit of cloth?”
Her eyes spoke volumes as he inspected the makeshift whip. This was more than lust-filled excitement. She was truly horrified. But she needed that emotion. She’d only felt it, truly felt it, when her master was near. He knew her mind was overloaded and that was good. But he also had to show her that just like last time, he was no threat. He knew the sting of the silk whip the best, no blood, no harsh lines, just a pleasant bite and a tremor of pleasure. He went to swing but noticed that her eyes had gone almost wild.
“Easy, Granger,” he said. “It’s just punishment… not torture. You chose this, remember?”
She nodded miserably and closed her eyes, turning her face away from him. Fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she tensed. He shook his head and struck, the first lash hitting her abdomen. She started to scream in agony but it ended with a squeak. Her head swung around so fast that he was worried she’d hurt her neck. He smirked at her wide eyed surprise.
“What’s the matter, Granger?”
She opened her mouth to speak but quickly clamped it shut. He was actually hoping she would speak so he could spank her lace clad arse but she was much smarter than that. It gave him a thrill that she was obeying him so well. In fact, he felt she should be rewarded. But how? He wondered…
“Such a good girl,” he purred. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”
Her mouth hung open in shock. Bingo. He’d successfully blown her mind. He hit her again, this time grazing just under her left breast. She flinched and then shivered, her eyes starting to go hot. Perfect. He doled out the lashes, enjoying the tears and the stifled moans. Her mind had retreated and only feeling remained. He felt the darkness swirl inside him and forced himself to stop. She had such pretty stripes now. They didn’t welt up, but the pink lines were extremely attractive. He transfigured the whip back into a handkerchief and stuffed it in his pocket. It was time to take her.
“You’ve done so well, pet,” he whispered, wiping the last of the tears from her cheeks. “Do you want me to take the ache away?”
She nodded pitifully, arching up so her breasts would graze his chest. The darkness flared and he couldn’t stop it, grabbing her hips roughly and yanking her into his arms, folding her legs behind him. Her hands were still stuck to the mirror which left her in a sort of cramped position, bending backwards. The mirror rippled and he cursed himself. He was losing it and he didn’t think he could stop. He pulled the crotch of her knickers to the side and fingered her entrance, judging whether or not she was truly ready for this. She was dripping and it made his cock harden painfully. He quickly undid his fly and sank home, relishing the feeling of her tight walls enveloping him.
Her mouth dropped open in shock as he pulled back and roughly plowed back in, struggling to keep himself in check. The darkness flared as he began thrusting as steadily as he could, his teeth bared in pleasure and frustration. The mirror rippled again, a harsh warning. He couldn’t do this, not if he wanted to stay in control. So he centered himself and kissed her, mimicking the movement of his hips with his tongue. The pleasure swelled and he held onto it, fighting the darkness with it. Maybe they both needed this.
She cried out into his mouth when he gave a sharp twist of his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that called to her, sending her over the edge. But she wasn’t quite there yet. She needed to explode emotionally. So he readjusted, holding her up with one hand, the other whipping around to rub her clit. She squealed and thrashed so hard he almost dropped her. He trailed his lips down her neck and bit sharply on her collar bone, squeezing her arse with one hand, tweaking her clit with the other, and changing the angle just the way she needed to send her into a wailing orgasm that almost shattered his ear drums. She was gone and his mind went white, wildly thrusting until he spilled himself inside her.
He thanked Merlin he’d had enough training to keep him upright because his legs felt like jelly. But his mind was mercifully clear for the first time since their mission. He just needed the extra pleasurable push she provided. Aware her breathing had changed dramatically, he eased himself out of her, biting back a groan at the loss of her warmth. He was surprised to see that she had actually passed out. This was his opportunity. He quickly righted them both and unstuck her from the mirror, laying her down on the steel bench.
He was extremely glad he’d worked the darkness out of his system because navigating her mind was taking everything he had. He was pleased to see that the curse had pretty much stayed where he pushed it back to, but it had seeped further than he wanted it too. Then again, he’d given her no stimulation and nothing to challenge her for almost three days. What did he expect? So he pushed further, curling it in a tighter ball and surrounding it with emotions and locking it in place with the trust he’d earned when he’d whipped her. She realized that he wasn’t trying to purposefully hurt her so he could beat her down. He only hoped that she would start resisting soon, because resisting would help her break it.
He was almost done when the door burst open. He didn’t dare look away, less he actually damage Hermione’s mind. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t listen. He heard Kingsley, Potter, and Weasley in a heated argument. Why they let that red headed wanker near this room was a complete mystery, but he couldn’t care about that. He was searching for something, some sort of key he could lock the curse behind. That way, when Hermione was conscious, he could tell her the trigger and see if she could hold it. There wasn’t enough time but if she could do just a little of his work, he might still save her. And really, that’s all he cared about.
“Ah shit,” he whispered, finding the key he needed.
Sadly enough, it was Weasley. It made him want to vomit, but he couldn’t fight or change it. Weasley was the key. Her attacker had ripped all her feelings for the red headed git away from her. In fact, they were so stripped, he wondered how she’d ever had the outburst she had about being left during the war. She still loved the weasel at the end of the war, despite his betrayal. So, with a heavy heart, Draco moved the memory of Weasley in front of the tiny hole he’d left in her defenses. Right now, since there were no feelings, it was a sturdy defense but to learn to trigger it, she had to develop feelings, good or bad. That would give her a little time… and some leverage.
When he was finished sealing her curse, he felt dizzy and faint, not to mention having a terrible headache. He’d been dabbling in the dark much too long and his magic was suffering from it. After that amazing shag, he needed sleep and some food. But there would be none now. He looked over with bleary eyes to see a petrified Weasley and an angry Shacklebolt staring at him. Potter was sulking in the door, Severus behind him. Draco wanted to hit something, but was so tired he decided to refrain.
“Sorry,” he said, trying and failing to stand. He shook his head and knelt on the floor. “Couldn’t waste the opportunity.”
“Barrister Malfoy,” Kingsley boomed. “Would you care to tell me exactly what you are doing?”
Draco narrowed his eyes, noticing Weasley’s eyes darting back and forth despite his petrification. “Not in present company… Minister.”
Kingsley’s lips tightened. “Then get up off the floor so we can hear your testimony.”
“I’d love to,” Draco said. He tried, failed, and sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I’m going to be here for a while. I’m tapped out.”
Kingsley grunted. “Potter, move him. Ghost, take her.”
Draco almost laughed aloud. He’d started the nickname Ghost for Severus years ago, when he’d first learned of his survival. He’d hated it but admitted that it was a fitting name. Besides, they couldn’t go around yelling each other’s real names. So they’d created code names. Good thing too… because Kingsley couldn’t exactly order Severus to pick Hermione up and whisk her away to their underground lair.
When Severus had disappeared with his patient, Kingsley parked himself in a nearby chair, motioning for Potter to come in.
“Now, Barrister Malfoy, tell me what happened.”
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“Well?” Severus drawled when Draco collapsed into his desk chair.
“Weasley’s been sentenced to a two week suspension for his outburst and another two weeks past that in anger management.”
Severus started laughing, deep and rich. He’d heard it several times, but even now, Draco startled at the sound. Potter came trotting through the door, perching on the desk. He had a forlorn look on his face. No one asked. Weasley was Potter’s best mate, but even he knew Weasley had stepped way out of line.
“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Kingsley boomed as he stomped into their office.
Harry swallowed and stepped forward. “Sir, I can explain.”
“You’d better make it quick, Potter. I have a civilian out cold in my hospital room with two knights standing guard. I had to obliviate Weasley because he would not stop railing about what he saw my Dark Arts Master doing to his precious friend. Honestly Malfoy, if you want to fuck someone, do it on your own time!”
Draco winced at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been yelled at for fucking on the job, but it was perhaps the first time he’d done so when there was truly a need. Usually he just asked for a leave until he could get himself under control. But there were extenuating circumstances. He just hoped that Kingsley understood that he had to do this.
“It’s my fault sir,” Harry said quickly. “I… I recruited Malfoy to help.”
Draco laid his head on his desk and rested while he listened to Potter lay out their entire plan and suspicions about Hermione. True to form, Kingsley was patient and silent until the very end. That was why Dumbledore had chosen the man. He was careful, cautious, and most importantly… just. He would listen to all sides before making a decision. He really was the perfect choice for their leader and his position at the Ministry wasn’t too shabby either. He saw the utmost importance of having a team so secret that they didn’t exist. They did the work no one else could, governed by no one, and dedicated to keeping the balance. They didn’t strike unless it was a threat of Voldemort proportions.
“So you believe Granger is cursed?” Kingsley asked after Potter had finished.
Draco sat up and nodded. “She is, Sir. I was able to crack the influence and push it into a corner, but she’s not ready to break it yet.”
“Where is the bloodstone now?” Kingsley asked.
“Hidden,” Harry answered. “And only released on my command.”
“Blood warding a bloodstone,” Kingsley said in amusement. “Wonder who gave you that idea?”
Potter smirked, shooting a hot look over at Severus, who wore a smirk to match. Draco rolled his eyes and put his head back down on the desk. He desperately needed sleep and he knew exactly where he wanted to catch it, but that was out of the question.
“I’ll expect you to succeed,” Kingsley drawled, his eyes boring into Draco’s skull.
Draco raised his head again and rested his chin on the desk. “I’ll die trying.”
Kingsley nodded. He knew all too well the struggles that Draco had gone through to try and revive his parents from their curses. If he could break just one person from a cruel fate, then it was an accomplishment. The big man seemed to contemplate something and then nodded to himself.
“During Weasley’s rehabilitation, Potter, I want you to befriend him again, make a plea. Perhaps he’d be happier… and less reckless if he were to provide strategies all the time… for the Unspeakables of course.”
Harry nodded. “He’s always wanted to become one.”
“He won’t be allowed to do field work,” Kingsley warned. “He’s too much of a liability. And of course he won’t know of the Knights. He’ll simply be tactical support.”
“Lav-Lav will be ecstatic,” Potter said dryly.
Severus snorted. “He’d be better off if he were to be shot of her.”
Potter sighed. “I know, but he’s not ready to step out on his own yet.”
“Still too torn up about his ex-girlfriend, the black widow,” Draco said snidely.
“About that,” Kingsley said. “I want her.”
“What?” Draco and Potter both screeched at the same time.
“For our team,” Kingsley amended. “She already knows too much. She will have seen our lair. She has a gift, as we all do. And she’ll have a powerful motivator… to keep others from experiencing what she has.”
“And if she doesn’t want to join?” Harry asked cautiously.
Kingsley frowned. “You’ll have to hope that none of the evidence leads back to her because I do have a few missives on my desk from concerned Pureblood families about her conduct the past few years.”
“But she’s cursed,” Draco snapped.
“And until you can break it and find her curser, she doesn’t have the evidence to absolve her.”
“A bloodstone isn’t bloody well evidence?” Harry asked.
“Can she speak out about it?”
“Not at all,” Draco said softly. “He’s bound her tongue.”
Kingsley nodded. “Then it won’t be like a simple imperious, provide the lack of memories and a personal testimony and you get off. Malfoy, you know better than anyone how the curse twists the mind and forces the body to reject the notion of being cursed. All she’ll have is your word that she is cursed… and do you think you can give that without proving your expertise in Dark Arts? And if you can, do you think you won’t rouse suspicions.”
“I know I will,” Draco said bitterly. “I’m a bloody Malfoy… and no one realizes that my parents are fucking cursed… have been since I was bloody born, fucking Riddle.”
Kingsley sighed. “No luck with your parents then?”
Draco shook his head and looked away. “I can’t treat them like I do Granger. I can’t make them treat each other that way. And I damn sure am not going to trust anyone else to be able to handle it.”
“You’ll figure it out one day,” Severus said quietly. “Perhaps a success with Granger will give you some ideas.”
Draco sighed and nodded, looking back over to see looks of sympathy, which he hated. He didn’t like to be pitied. He was doing quite well for himself, actually. He’d broken an enslaving potion when he was 14. He’d managed to successfully act like a devout Pureblood fanatic under the thumb of the most vile and successful Legilimens in the wizarding world. And now he held two jobs which he was damn good at, if he did say so. He wished they’d remember him for that instead of seeing the failure he always felt like he was.
“Go catch some sleep,” Kingsley said with a sigh. “Relieve Neville and Luna, but don’t you dare let her past that door.”
“Yes sir,” he said with a tired salute before lumbering over to the Hospital room.
He dismissed his fellow knights with a nod before stripping to his undershirt and trousers and crawling on the cot with Hermione. He was glad they’d enlarged it as soon as he walked in because he honestly didn’t think he had the energy to do it. Hermione was curled in a ball, shivering on the edge of the mattress. He sighed and spooned against her, summoning a few blankets and tucking them in. The Hospital room got awfully cold when you weren’t moving. Before his eyes slammed shut, he cast a dozen wards and alarms, knowing the others would have warded them in from the outside.
The last thought that went through his mind was if this would be the last time he’d get to hold her.
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“Feeling better?”
Draco looked up to see Potter and Severus standing in his parlor. He sighed and offered them a seat with a wave of his hand.
“Well?” Severus asked as he poured himself some tea.
“She slapped me,” Draco said quietly, a soft smile on his face. “She’s getting better.”
“And your darkness?” Harry asked.
He looked up and showed them his eyes, pale grey and shining in the fire light. “Gone. For now.”
“You’ve got to quit taking it all for yourself,” Severus chided.
“And what would you have me do?” Draco snapped. “Longbottom and Lovegood can’t stand up to the darkness.”
“We can,” Harry growled.
Draco shrugged. “Why should you have to?”
“You’re acting like a bloody Gryffindor,” Severus snapped.
“Hey,” Harry growled half-heartedly, earning himself a quirked eyebrow and a swat on his thigh.
Draco groaned and leaned his head back against his chair. “It’s my job Severus. I take the darkness so everyone else can work without the burden.”
“And while doing so, you are unable to successfully fight,” Severus said. “I wonder if Kingsley realizes what a good duelist you are.”
“I’m sure he does since I kicked his arse last time,” Draco said dryly. “But you and the others are more than capable of handling yourselves.”
“We worry for you,” Harry said. “One day, there might be too much darkness. We can see it taking its toll Malfoy. Especially since you’ve been helping Hermione.”
“Really,” Draco said dryly. “You’ve noticed that big of a difference in four days?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately,” Severus drawled.
Draco sniffed. “Have you?”
Severus growled. “I am not a vampire, dammit.”
“Course not. You just have the blood flowing through your veins,” Draco countered. “I’m quite jealous. I would love to have cravings for blood and a sensitivity to sunlight.”
Severus slammed down his cup. “It’s the price I pay to live.”
“And this is mine!” Draco roared. “I make my way by paying the price, subjecting myself to the darkness because no one is quite as resilient as I am to it. I have the fucking Dark Lord to thank for that, don’t I?”
“No one said you had to pay it, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly.
“Really,” Draco said dryly. “Care to ask Kingsley his thoughts?” Harry looked away. “That’s what I thought. You would have gotten off, Potter, but I would have had a one way ticket to Azkaban. And you bloody well know that once you are a knight, there is no leaving.”
“But-“ Harry started.
“No buts,” Draco said tiredly. “I have a gift, like the rest of you. I must use it.”
“You need another outlet,” Severus said softly.
Draco snorted. “Once Granger is cured, and you better damn well believe she will be, I’ll go back to my usual way of dealing with it.”
“Whores and sub clubs?” Severus asked snidely.
“It’s worked so far,” Draco shot back. “Besides, no marriage, remember? No suspicious relationships, no indication that you have an attachment to another person.”
“Unless they are a knight,” Harry said softly.
“I hardly think Longbottom and Loovegood would allow me to chain, whip, and fuck them to my heart’s content when the darkness gets to be too much.”
“Granger might,” Severus said, causing their heads to whip around toward him. “Well, she certainly seemed to enjoy being attached to a mirror and dominated.”
“That’s the curse,” Draco said.
“No,” Severus said. “You said so yourself, the curse only affects emotions and control of certain aspects of her life. You successfully broke through her emotions with a few words about Weasley and how stupid she was to reveal her secrets. Sex… release is really the only other thing she needed. The whipping, the spanking, the wax and toys the other day, those were your desires.”
“She needed the push,” Draco growled.
Severus nodded. “But she didn’t have to enjoy them. And she did. I could tell that and all I saw were your eyes and her back. I have a feeling she’s drawn to the darker aspects of sex.”
“Because of the curse,” Draco said.
“Perhaps,” Severus said after a while. “But then again, perhaps she was like that all along? She’s always been eager to please. Your praise of her seemed to kick her arousal up a notch.”
“Then why wouldn’t she be happy with her bleeding attacker,” Draco asked bitterly. “After all, he tried persuading her.”
“She didn’t share his views,” Severus said simply. “But you are trying to help her.”
“I was her enemy.”
“And now you are her savoir,” Severus said softly. “She clearly stated she didn’t have one. You are fulfilling that role.”
“So it’s transference. She’s soft for her caretaker.”
“She slapped you,” Harry said with a smile. “I hardly think she’s falling for you.”
“But she’s amenable to your strength, your dominance, and your prowess,” Severus drawled.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Draco snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see if the enchantment has worn off.”
“If it had, you would have felt it,” Harry said with a smirk.
“Shut the fuck up, Potter,” Draco snapped before stomping upstairs.
Draco was no fool. He knew Hermione didn’t care for him. The emotions were something she couldn’t control. She’d told him she hated him, well, in as many words as she could. Then she’d called him a bastard. He’d say she wasn’t at all happy with him. The slap was icing on the cake. She’d sat up, screeched at him for taking advantage of her and then proceeded to try and hex him. She didn’t get far. The wards suppressed her magic and he’d quickly put her in an enchanted sleep so she wouldn’t think to ask too many questions. He was in for it.
He opened the door cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief to see the enchantment was still working. He hadn’t gotten much sleep but the few winks he’d caught in the room with her were enough to keep him from falling over. But there was still work to do. She’d done so well earlier that he had to try again. Perhaps keeping her in a heightened emotional state was the key. After all, the curse had been stayed by her frustration at not being able to leave her house. Perhaps he should up his game.
She looked so peaceful, not a trace of a worry line in sight. He hated to wake her up but there was nothing for it. With a heavy heart, he climbed on the bed, straddling her waist. He tied her legs to the bed with a flick of his wand and crossed her wrists so he could hold them in one hand. Then he whispered the spell to wake her and held on, hoping there was still some fight in her. He wasn’t disappointed. Her eyes opened with a pop and she immediately tried to fight him off, realizing her legs were tied down almost immediately.
“Get off of me you fucking bastard!”
Draco couldn’t help but grin. “That wasn’t what you were saying earlier.”
“You sorry son of a bitch!”
Draco smirked. “My mum was a good woman Granger. And she and my father were married when they had me, thank you very much.”
“Good woman,” she snorted. “She-“
“Tried to save Potter,” Draco snapped. “Despite the fact that she was just as fucking cursed as you.”
Hermione’s eyes flickered in shock. “What?”
He sighed and loosened his hold on her hands. “You heard me Granger. You aren’t the only one with a bloodstone hanging around your neck.”
“Whose?”
“Who else,” Draco said darkly. “You have no idea what it took to go against him, especially since he was very much alive… and in immediate proximity.”
“So you cured her?”
Draco snorted then and spelled her hands to stay put before climbing off of her. He was growing tired of their conversation rather quickly. “You don’t read the papers, do you?”
She frowned then, struggling a little before giving it up as a bad job. “I don’t remember reading anything about them.”
Draco sighed. “You would have if you were paying close attention. But I suppose Rita took my threats to heart.”
Or someone else’s. Draco frowned. Dumbledore. That old coot had insisted to help him with his parents. And he’d personally threatened Rita after Draco did. A threat from a dead man probably held much more weight than one from a disgraced ex-Death Eater. He wished the old man was still around. He seemed to have the most unbiased opinion out of the lot. He had always listened to Draco’s troubles in the past. Too bad Vampires had a true death as well.
“Malfoy,” Hermione called softly. “Malfoy, what’s wrong?”
“What?” he asked, blinking back his dark thoughts.
“You looked like someone killed your cat.”
“I don’t have a cat. But no matter. I’ll take you home now.”
“Wait,” she said softly. “What… what happened to your parents?”
“Same thing that will happen to you when your master finally dies.”
She paled. “They’re almost comatose.”
He nodded. “It’s how we knew the Dark Lord wasn’t truly dead. They would have gone crazy long ago. They fought it for years but…”
“They couldn’t when he returned,” she whispered.
He nodded. “We have less than a week Granger. You think you can beat it before then?”
“Why so soon?” she asked.
“What happens to a werewolf when the full moon comes?”
“They lose their mind.”
“Exactly.”
He heard her sobbing and decided to grant her a small mercy. He undid her hands and listened as she covered her face. His eyes remained training on the floor. In all actuality, they could begin again after the full moon. But if she reunited with that bloodstone, her master would sense the change in her. And the reality of her situation was that he would kill her. She would become a liability, even if her tongue was tied. So they might get her mind back after the moon, but her life would be forfeit. He didn’t want to burden her with that. Being a vegetable would be kinder.
“What can you do?”
He had to look at her then. Her voice sounded so passionate. She had fire in her eyes, a welcomed sight. And he knew her head was clear. The glazed look was gone, replaced with determination. The look she had now made him want to fuck her into the mattress. It was the look he’d fallen in love with so many years ago, when he’d finally discovered the truth.
“What do you mean?” he asked once he felt like his voice wouldn’t crack.
“I mean, what can you do to help me? What you’ve done has helped so far, though I don’t understand it.”
He nodded. “Strong emotions, Granger. Think about it. To cast an unforgivable, what do you need?”
“Intent. Harry said you have to really want it.”
He nodded again. “Emotions. To kill someone, you have to hate. To hurt someone, you have to hate them. To control them, you have to crave it. Potter can break the imperio. Why?”
“He wants his life to be his own,” she whispered. “He was tired of everyone telling him what to do. He was beat down since he was a year old only to be sent to a place where they refused to tell him anything. And to be told something that he truly didn’t want-“
“Potter is passionate about being his own man,” he answered for her. “Therefore, he has enough motivation to break it, enough emotions, enough power.”
She bit back a sob. “But I want to be free as well.”
“I know. You tried for a year, did you not?”
She nodded miserably. “Nothing helped.”
“You mean the curse wouldn’t let you push yourself.” Her face fell and he nodded. “That’s why you need someone to push you. And who better to push you than someone you hate?”
She frowned. “I… I don’t hate you.”
“Really? You seemed to think otherwise earlier.”
“I hate what you do to me,” she clarified. “And I hate that I react like a… like a…”
“You react beautifully,” he said, hiding a smile. “But good sex isn’t enough.”
She blushed beautifully before clearing her throat. “What do you suggest?”
He smirked. “What are you most afraid of in the entire world?”

AN: Whew. It's been a week my reader friends, it has been a week. My muse retreated for a while but I'm playing hide and seek with her now so you can have this chappy. As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. My muse loves them like a fat kid loves cake. (and I'm a fat kid, I would know) Keep them coming and let me know how I'm doing. Until next time... love you guys.
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