bench. The sponge came next, but it was wet and so it made an unimpressive 'bleurp' sound against the wall as it slid down, leaving a wet trail.
"You disgusting, perverted, slime!" she screamed, reaching for the tray. Unfortunately, this was fixed to the tub. She tugged at it a few times, realised her breasts were in full view and then ducked back down in the water again to stare at him with acidic sullenness.
If he laughed, she'd get angrier and probably would do herself some sort of injury. So Draco bit his lip, controlled himself, avoided the glittering shards of glass that now littered the floor, and began to unlatch his protective, padded vest.
He also started to hum.
His calm demeanour obviously infuriated her, but unless she was going to march, stark naked and dripping wet, out of the bath to fetch her wand and use it on him, there was not much else she could do.
"I swear, Malfoy, if you don't leave right this instant, I'm going straight to Dumbledore."
He'd been waiting for that. She needed to know what exactly was at stake for his manipulations to work. Draco knew she wouldn't tell. To tell would be akin to admitting that she was just as much of a screw up as everyone else.
Besides, she liked him.
Though perhaps he was testing that 'like' far too soon and in too confrontational a manner...
Whatever. Youth was after all the time to make potentially stupid decisions and to learn from mistakes. Draco was prepared to call her bluff. If they really were making an avoidable error that afternoon, well at least it would be an enjoyable one.
Once the vest was off, he peeled off his sweat-soaked, Quidditch jersey, groaning slightly when the left sleeve came free off his injured arm and dropped it on the bench. The pain caused him to blink a few times to refocus his vision. If he fainted, she would probably drown him or something.
He turned to stare at the wall, for both their benefits, and began to undo the fastenings on his trousers.
**
"YOU WILL KEEP YOUR GOD DAMNED PANTS ON, MALFOY!"
Hermione was in a state. Malfoy had chosen to completely disregard the fact that the bathroom was in use, and barged in. Only 'barged' wasn't the right word. The bastard had been very quiet about it. He had simply...sauntered in, declared his intentions and expected her to not be bothered.
The fact that they had a history together was his lame excuse, no doubt. Well, she was bothered. This was exactly the kind of behaviour she expected from him and hoped he wouldn't resort to. Maybe other girls found it charming, found him unpredictable and swoon-worthy, but not her. She hated how he made her feel like a prude, like she was no fun at all.
His remarks on the morning of the Dreaded Waking came back to haunt her:
"Do you miss it?""Do I miss what?"
"The stick I managed to knock loose from your arse last night."
Was that true? Was she so tight-laced that she couldn't see the lighter side of things? What was the harm in a bit of play to take the edge of the spell? She had certainly been willing to go down that path to ease her graduation doldrums on the night of the party.
Other prefects had brought their own partners into the bathroom at one time or another. Did it really take an alcoholic binge for her true colours to surface? And what exactly were her true colours?
Scarlet, most likely, thought Hermione. Did sin even have a colour?
They were both of legal age. If she consented... Consented to what, exactly? To being sexually harassed and threatened? To being played with and then tossed aside when he got bored? There were some things that no woman, Muggle or Magic, should ever have to put up with. Draco Malfoy was one of them.
The realities of where the effects of Fida Mia ended and where her genuine feelings for him began were problematic. Perhaps there was something deeply wrong with her, something that craved his inconsistent treatment of her - quiet, funny and soulful at one turn, cold, callous and not a little scary, at another.
It was stupid. She was stupid. Hermione was feeling like a girl who had just got her bubble burst by a boy who turned out to be the cad she had originally thought him to be.
If he made her cry right now, she would never forgive him.
Further analysis of her feelings was interrupted, then,