agreed, with resignation. And now back to our scheduled matinee, entitled, 'I Woke Up Married To A Mudblood and All I Got Was A Bloody Tattoo'.
Abruptly, he got off of her and went to retrieve his robes and trousers. Granger sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving, until he picked up his wand from the dresser and walked towards her.
With a worried look, she scrambled backwards over the bed.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I have yet to cast my first Killing Curse, and you're flattering yourself if you think I'd use it on you," he said, buttoning his fly.
Only she wasn't paying attention to him. Her eyes were now fixed on the mirror behind him. She then transferred her stare to his face. He might have described her expression as smug, which was very un-Grangerlike of her.
Feeling the hairs on his arms stand on end, Draco twisted around to have a look.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, touching the set of gleaming, coal-black wings that spanned his upper back.
They wrapped around him, the tips of the long, intricately tattooed feathers ended on either side of his ribcage. One wing was broken and folded in slightly. It could have been quite the work of art, if it didn't represent everything that was nausea inducing.
Hermione watched Draco's horror mingle with fascination as he walked up to the mirror to get a closer look at his back. She had thought his tattoo to be spellbindingly beautiful when she first laid eyes on it. Now, however, it made her want to hide her head in a hole and scream until her voice gave out.
Despite the situation, the researcher in her found it odd that Malfoy should have a set of wings, albeit broken ones, while she had been marked with a dragon. To her growing annoyance, her knowledge on magical tattoos was minimal. This was compounded by the fact that the topic itself was overshadowed by Voldemort's Dark Mark and any real interest in the area was often regarded with a healthy dose of suspicion.
"We'll have it undone," Draco said, swallowing. "As soon as possible."
Through the mirror, she gave him a look that suggested he spoke the extremely obvious.
"Of course, when it's all over, you don't have to Obliviate yourself if you don't want to. I understand if you'd like to keep some of the memories." He smirked at her.
"It would be just like you to be that delusional. It might be news to you to know that I usually find you disgusting, Malfoy. Last night was a mistake, and you bloody well know it." She might have spat at him if she had been close enough. Regrettably, she had chosen to sit out on the third year, projectile-spitting sessions conducted by Ron, Harry and Dean Thomas, over the North Tower.
From the looks of things, namely the vein standing out on his right temple, Malfoy didn't take kindly to backchat.
With a determined expression, he pulled her up by the front of her bathrobe, like a mother cat picking up a wayward kitten, and set her before him in front of the mirror. One steely arm wrapped around her waist. It was a far gentler grip then what he had used before, but Hermione was helpless to wriggle out of it.
"You're a rotten liar, Granger," he said against her neck. "And I hate liars." He pushed her ankles apart with his foot. Once her legs were sufficiently parted, he shoved aside the edges of her untied bathrobe and slid a hand down her belly. Hermione blinked fast and hard, hoping to blur the image displayed in the mirror before her.
It was like watching a car crash, horrible to behold, not the least because it was happening to her.
She was couldn't make herself look away.
He made a sound of approval when he slid two fingers between her legs. Or then again it might have been a sound of vindication. With Malfoy, it was hard to tell.
She wasn't exactly wet, most of it was dampness from her shower, but it was the act that shut her up. She looked mortified. Someone with more experience might have retorted with a couple of choice comments about the bulge in his own robes, but Hermione remained silent, her eyes mutinous and downcast.
A creeping suspicion hit Draco then, but he soon dismissed it. Nobody who could give a blowjob the way Granger did could have possibly been a novice. She was a quick learner, granted, but she wasn't that quick. Idly, he wondered