her common sense seemed to have deserted her. A melting, pulsing sensation unfurled lower down her body, equal parts nervous arousal and the realisation she was carrying out some sort of personal challenge.
Their eyes met. He held her gaze for a brief moment; before his stare dipped lower to inspect her person with routine insolence.
They spoke. Beginning with thinly veiled insults disguised as banter. Seven years of practice had made them exceedingly good at this. The talk progressed to prefectorial matters. He played with his wand as he spoke, twirling it with his long fingers.
It wasn't until she asked him about his plans after school, did he realise she wasn't just there to check up on duties with the only prefect who wasn't completely blotto.
He had looked stunned for a few seconds and Hermione could fully appreciate the absurdity of the situation. Her confidence waned with each thundering heartbeat.
Malfoy stared at her, his grey eyes picking up details and analysing them with great speed. He had frowned slightly, suspicion and amusement settling over his fine features for a fleeting moment. But then he smiled. Not a smirk, not a leer, not gloating, but a slow, knowing smile to charm the fangs off a vampire.
He inhaled lowly, rising to his full height, which was nearly two heads taller than her.
"Would you like to go somewhere a little lessfestive?" he asked, completely deadpan. His voice had transformed from snide and snooty to something else. She had never heard Draco speak to anyone like that before, although no doubt he used this talent sparingly and to great advantage.
Hermione recalled thinking that that sort of composure ought to have been illegal. She was much more accustomed to Harry's endearing guilelessness and Ron' s sincere charm. Under her robes, her knees were fairly knocking together. She was standing at the intersection of Moral Dilemma Junction.
All that was needed, Hermione now thought, with wry amusement, was the commentary:
Behind door number one, Miss Granger, are safe, semi-erotic dreams in your own bed, your own sheets and a giggle with your girlfriends in the morning over how you almost propositioned Draco Malfoy! But behind door number two, if you would be as bold as to open it, is a one-way ticket to hell and all the sulfur and brimstoneyou can handle. Hot? Yes. Punishing? Most assuredly. But the devil has eyes like an ancient glacier and the most beautiful hands you've seen on a person. And even though you hate him and everything he stands for, you want something this evening only he seems capable of providing...
Malfoy, cursed mind reader that he was, had seemingly allowed her these doubts. He waited quietly for her troubled expression to clear before offering her his arm. He was largely the same arrogant son of a Death Eater he had been since first year, and yet there was a maturity about him that had completely bypassed other boys. Draco was a man completely at ease in his skin.
It had to be the clothes. Maybe wearing a month's salary worth of material on one's back was enough to ensure that stumbling, fidgeting and stammering were avoided.
She may have scored the highest NEWTS in over a century, but Hermione Granger called herself all sorts of fool as she put her memories on pause, and stepped under the scalding hot shower spray in the Pepto Bismol - coloured hotel bathroom. She winced at the intensified stinging of the numerous sore spots over her body.
Grabbing the soap and a face towel, she set about attempting to wash away the remnants of the previous night.
Her hands scrubbed particularly ferociously at a spot just above her hipbone.
It was an exercise in futility, seeing as marriage tattoos would not wash off.
Chapter Three
Draco was awake when Hermione finally stepped out of the bathroom. He lay on the bed, hands folded behind his head, contemplating the cottage cheese effect on the ceiling. There was a distinct damp spot under the small of his back, but he was too lazy to move. He lolled his head to his side, watching as she tightened the belt on the pink bathrobe she was wearing.
Hermione meanwhile was suddenly very conscious of her wet hair, swollen, red eyes and her lower lip which was sticking out just slightly. She sucked it in. Nothing he could say to her now could possibly be worse than the self castigation she had just put herself through. As usual, however, Malfoy was not to be underestimated.