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Getting Ahead	By : iWRITE09 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9404 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, that pleasure belongs to JK Rowling. I do not make any profit.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
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Chapter Eight – Game, Set, Match

(According to Urban Dictionary - Game, set, match is used to indicate that a person has definitively beaten the opposition in a given situation)

Hermione rested her chin against the heel of her hand, her arm propped up on a study table in the secluded corner of her beloved sanctuary, the library. Her transfiguration presentation was coming along quite nicely; she was hoping to impress Professor McGonagall with her extensive research of the first animagi twins, Matilda and Margery Rawlenforth.

The blissful peace of the library was broken when Harry and Ron each plopped down on either side of her, the loud scraping noises of their chairs earning a reproachful glare from Madam Pince.

“You weren’t at breakfast Hermione, you missed the action!” Ron lowered his tone considerably when Madam Pince angrily cleared her throat. “The Hufflepuff table actually grew some balls and were talking shit back to the Slytherins.” Ron finished in an excited whisper.

“I had breakfast early this morning; I had some catching up to do on my marvelous metamorphoses’ Transfiguration presentation.” Hermione replied offhandedly, her hand busily scribbling away on a half filled sheet of parchment.

“Yeah, we figured we’d find you here. You look tired ‘Mione.” Since when had Harry become so astute?

“A bit.” Hermione cleared her throat and scanned her parchment hopelessly, her train of thought was now completely wrecked. “So why were Hufflepuff and Slytherin going at it?”

“The first quidditch match of the season Hermione, obviously!” Ron huffed.

“Oh, right. Well, good for Hufflepuff, and God speed to them in their match today.” She tried yet failed horribly at sounding the least bit interested.

“Won’t the Head Boy be upset if you don’t make it to his first match? Even if you are rooting for the other team?” Hermione’s eyes shot up to Harry’s inquisitive emerald ones. Innocent question, or was he baiting her?

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” Hermione replied in a clipped tone, pulling a large tome closer. “But you two better hurry if you want good seats for the match. The weather’s nice today, the stands will fill up fast.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Draco stomped his way into the Slytherin dorm, his muddy boots leaving behind a mess for some poor house elf. How dare Hermione miss his first game. His fist clenched around the tiny snitch that had sealed the fate of the game, to Slytherin’s advantage.

Not only had he played exceptionally well today, but Blaise had been off. Apparently his mind had been somewhere else. Hopefully Scarhead and the Weasel King would atleast fill her in on the details of how the Slytherin beater had nearly blown the game, only to be bailed out by Draco’s phenomenal catch. Draco smirked at that thought, but it wasn’t enough to calm his annoyance at Hermione’s absence.

He quickly rid himself of his quidditch uniform and prepared for a shower, without a doubt he was going to need to lay down the law with that know-it-all wench, tonight.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Blaise sat sulkily on the end of his bed, cradling his head between his palms. As relieved as he felt that Hermione hadn’t seen him completely blow during the match, he was sure that, had she been there, he wouldn’t have been as distracted about her where abouts and perhaps played somewhat decently.

He still wasn’t one hundred percent sure where she was. He had entered the Heads dorm prepared for at least a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. At least. The Heads dorm was not only deserted, but chilly as the fire had burned out hours ago. ‘Perfect.’

He muttered an angry oath under his breath at the thought of her off celebrating the Slytherin victory somewhere with Malfoy. He’d wring both their necks. But no, this was Hermione Granger. Quidditch provided her with absolutely no academic exposure whatsoever, he doubted whether she even knew who had won.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione unconcernedly wondered who had won the quidditch match as she glanced at her small wristwatch. Almost five, the match had to be over by now. She was sure she’d hear all about it from Harry, Ron, and Ginny at dinner – her own personal squad of quidditch analysis experts.

Her stomach gave a low rumble. She’d gotten caught up in the Rawlenforth case studies and missed lunch. Definitely time for dinner.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione rolled her eyes. No need to ask who had won the match. The entire Slytherin House was decked out from head to toe in green and silver, and being as obnoxiously loud and rowdy as they could possibly manage.

The Hufflepuffs sat silently; the majority of their house was opting to sit on benches that faced the Ravenclaw table, rather than the victorious Slytherins. Those few Hufflepuffs that had not managed to snag an optimal seat facing Ravenclaw kept their eyes glued to their plates as if it were the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Hermione was tempted to order the Slytherin table to settle down, but resisted the spiteful urge. She’d rather not be accused of being a hypocrite by her peers and the professors at the next Gryffindor celebration.

However, she to elected to choose a seat facing away from the rambunctious serpents.

Hermione was playing a game with herself. She was seeing how much of the quidditch discussion she could possibly ignore while still nodding and “ooohing” in all the right places, while also trying to guess which Slytherin chocolate, light or dark, was burning holes into the back of her head.

'Malfoy, Blaise....no...has to be Blaise. Nope, it's definitely Malfoy. Blaise?'

Politely, Hermione excused herself, claiming she needed to put in just a few more hours of research before the library closed early. Saturday night library hours ranked number two on her list of pet peeves; having her appetite ruined by Slytherins was number one.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione was surprised, and perhaps a little disappointed to see Blaise in the library. Ok, definitely disappointed. That means the light chocolate, Malfoy, had been the offender during her meal. 'Knew it!'

They had already made eye contact; there was no avoiding him now.

“You’re missing quite a show in the Great Hall. Why aren’t you in there celebrating with the rest of your house?” Hermione reluctantly lowered herself into the chair across from Blaise. ‘That’s right Hermione, small talk, just keep it casual.’

“I played horribly. My good luck charm wasn’t there.” His adorable lopsided grin was emphasized by his dimple. Hermione wanted to gag.

“Your lucky underpants are still in the wash?” They both laughed and Hermione mentally patted herself on the back for pulling out of that sticky situation.

“Well I actually just dropped by to return a few books.” The lie left a sour taste in her mouth. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been doing a lot of that lately. “I promised Ginny I’d stay in the Gryffindor dorm with her tonight to catch up on the girly gossip.” With a little wave she was gone.

Blaise couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes, as if he honestly believed Hermione Granger would be caught dead sharing or caring about girly gossip. ‘Come on Hermione, you can do better than that.’

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Draco couldn’t have planned it better if well, he had planned it. Granger was walking, alone, up a flight of stairs. He was distracted for only a moment by the way her tight muggle jeans clung to her perfectly plump rump. Shaking his head to clear it, he raced to a nearby stairway to head her off. It just wouldn’t do for a Malfoy to be seen directly chasing a Mudblood, even if her arse did look like that.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione really wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Malfoy heading directly towards her from the other end of the corridor. Hell, with the way her luck was going, Voldemort was probably waiting for her on the couch up in the Gryffindor common room.

What did surprise her however, was the tight grasp on her arm when she’d tried to silently walk past him. She heard a dull thud, and realized it was her head hitting the stone wall when a bolt of pain shot through her skull. ‘So this is what it feels like to be Harry Potter.’

She didn’t even have time to react as her wand was wrenched out of her loose grip, orange and yellow sparks flew up to the ceiling. Regaining her wits about her, Hermione dropped her bag to the floor to free up her only defense mechanisms, her tiny fists.

Reading her eyes like a book, Malfoy pinned her arms to her sides. He had felt one of those fists of fury once before after all – and it was a lot bigger now than it had been in their third year.

Hermione held perfectly still. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle. She wasn’t ignorant enough to believe her petite frame was going to conquer his formidable build.

“Why weren’t you at my game Granger?”

“I don’t play games, I quit muggle school because they had recess.”

“Granger…” His warning tone, well growl rather, sent a shiver up her spine.

“Bugger off Malfoy, I care about quidditch almost as much as I care about you. Which is not at all, in case you hadn’t picked up on that.” She felt her stomach tighten in excitement when he bared his perfectly straight, white teeth at her. At least her parents would approve of him.

“Listen Mudblood,” Draco’s cock twitched at the fire that erupted in her eyes by just his use of that one little word, “let me lay down some guidelines for you.” The defiant set of her jaw made him want to throw her over his knee and spank those deliciously fleshy cheeks until they were the color of Weaselby’s hair.

“One, you will attend all of my quidditch games. I understand that to save face, you will not be openly cheering for my house. But you will be there, and you will be wearing green knickers to show your support.” He wedged his knee between her thighs and pressed against her core for emphasis.

Hermione couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. She took the opportunity to shrug his hands away from her and gave him a rough shove. She walked towards him until his back was against the opposing wall and savagely poked her finger into his toned chest.

“You’re going to stop calling me Mudblood, Malfoy.”

Draco slapped her hand away and stepped away from the wall, towering above her menacingly. He continued his tirade as if she hadn’t spoken, or assaulted his chest, at all.

“Two, keep Zabini off your mind and out of your bed.” Hermione didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened when his jealous side was in overdrive.

“And another thing Malfoy, how dare you send me a rose when anyone in plain site could have seen. I can’t even begin to fathom how I would have explained that to Harry and Ron. You-”

“Which brings me to my next point, number three. You are not to be alone with either of them, or any other male at any time with the only exception being that of Zabini for Head Girl and Boy duties only.”

“You’ve lost your mind!”

Draco brutally grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back. He dipped his head to ruthlessly bite the smooth skin above her collar bone. There, let Zabini see that love bite.

Suddenly he realized her skin was covered in chill bumps. ‘So Granger gets off on rough play, who would’ve guessed.’ Had he been raised by a less dignified family, he would have literally jumped for joy and clicked his heels together.

He came back up and met Hermione’s chocolate eyes. He smirked for good measure before delivering the final blow. “And four, when we’re alone you may refer to me as master.”

Hermione’s jaw went slack. Suddenly many things happened at once; Hermione swung her right fist up, but Draco caught it in his left hand, and instinctively tightened his right hand grip in her hair. He propelled himself backwards against the wall, dragging her with him, causing her to stumble and throw her weight against his body. Draco roughly captured her lips, nipping at her bottom lip for entrance.

Hermione jerked her fist from his viselike grip and began shoving at his chest. The strain on her scalp was limiting her ability to tear her mouth away from his, but she wasn’t going down without a fight. Which is precisely what Draco was hoping for, of course.

Releasing her hair, he grasped her firm bottom and lifted her. He turned and trapped her body between his own and the wall. He was delighted by the outraged cry Hermione let out against his mouth, and took the opportunity to force his tongue between her lips.

Suddenly their tongues were battling for dominance and Hermione’s once flailing legs were now wrapped securely around his waist. Draco’s rock hard cock was pushed against her lower abdomen, and Hermione could just barely discern the gentle rocking of his hips against her somewhere in the back of her mind.

Her nails dipped beneath the collar of his perfectly pressed, white oxford to claw at the tender flesh of his upper back. That gained her a more insistent thrust of his hips, sending a delightful shock right through her nether regions and into the pit of her belly.

Draco wasn’t usually one for foreplay, he’d gotten that out of his system some time during fifth year. He’d been raised in a strict household and one thing he had managed to pull out of his mother’s constant badgering of etiquette was that you do not play with your food before you eat it. However, he was pretty sure he could stand right here in this hallway and snog Hermione Mudblood Granger until she begged him for air.

‘Best not to put all of your eggs in one basket though’ Draco reasoned and pulled away from her eager, swollen lips. After all, he did plan on making her beg for more at a later date.

Hermione’s glazed eyes studied him curiously as he lowered her slowly down his body until her feet touched the floor.

“Are you sorry again, Granger?” He stepped back and straightened his clothing.

A hot rush of embarrassment hit Hermione full on. Her light sweater and jeans felt like they were constricting her, she was so damn hot. The realization that she had played into Malfoy’s game made her sick.

“I’m sorry that your arrogance and stupid little games have left you in the predicament of handling that,” she nodded her head at his tented pants, “alone.”

Draco casually began walking away. He replied without even having the decency to turn around, “Oh don’t worry about me Mudblood, it may not be you handling it this time, but I assure you I won't be alone."

Hermione slipped her small foot out of her pump and launched it at his head. The slight THWACK brought her more pleasure than she could have imagined.

When Malfoy turned to quirk an eyebrow at her childish behavior, she did the most immature thing she’d done since entering this castle at the age of eleven. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“If I had that ugly thing in my mouth, I’d stick it out to.”

Hermione grumpily watched as he made his way down the corridor and out of site. Hot, bothered, and bested by none other than that pureblooded bastard. 'Brightest witch of the age, my ass.'

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Getting Ahead