True Slytherin Intentions

Chapter 4| Pleasure and Consequences

Malfoy watched as the realisation of what had just accrued hit Hermione. “Oh, Merlin,” she gasped as she yanked her skirt down. Her eyes were still a little wild from the pleasure slowly coursing from her veins. Her hair dishevelled as she stood trembling slightly, her cheeks flushed, and her skin was glistening under the moonlight spilling through the small dusty window to their side.

She looked lost, still trying to find her mind through the haze of pleasure. He could see the conflict in her, but he could also see the way her body weakly slumped back against the desk, ready and waiting for more. If he wanted to, he could have her right here, and he knew she wanted it. He held back a small groan, his eyes forcing themselves to stay level with hers as he fought every bone in his body.

But he knew the image of her sat on a desk with her skirt rolled up around her waist, waiting for him to have her, completely unguarded, untouched, was one he’d never tare from his mind.

Weasley hasn’t taken her yet.

The fool.

Hermione jumped at the sound of a birds chipper, signalling the first ray of day that slowly snuck in through the window, exposing them both a lot clearer now. But Hermione kept her eyes far from Malfoy as she hurried towards the locked door hiding her hatred at herself from him.

“You might consider using your wand to unlock the door,” Malfoy said from behind her, his left hand holding out her wand.

She ground the tears back behind her lids, forcing her shoulders to tense as she turned to face him. Whatever confusion or lust she had been swimming in a few seconds ago was far gone as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, her words dripping with loathing towards the Blonde boy who had just brought her to her knees.

“Give me my wand.” She demanded, half expecting him to protest. She didn’t know how long she could keep it up; all Hermione wanted to do was run and scrub her skin until it was raw.

She wanted to remove as much of Malfoy off her as she could. She needed to wash her shame away, her disappointment at herself.

Malfoy kept his eyes calculated as he strode towards her but coming to a halt a few inches away, he pushed back against the door hard with his hands pinning her. She couldn’t help the small whimper of pain that escaped into the narrow space between them. And even though her eyes were closed, she could feel his body tense, a slight twitch teasing him at her admission or pain.

“Tell anyone Granger . . .” He threatened, his mint stained breath almost claiming her senses.

She’d never noticed how he smelt like mint before, and given how close they had gotten, it was rather shocking.

Pressing his wand up under her chin, he kept it balanced between her shoulder and his palm. Hermione scoffed, feeling her chest restrict against her heart as she felt her emotions rushing over her.

“Tell anyone? I could never tell anyone. I’d be ruined.” She whispered the last part, her voice failing to hide the hurt as the shame rolled from her tongue. A single tear spilt down the side of her cheek, and it had Malfoy sneering down at her with a chuckle.

“Except it, Granger, you’re disgusted not at me. At yourself for wanting me.” He pushed, knowing it was hurting her. The way her eyes flinched told him as much. But the way she had reacted to him suddenly, the idea of how others would react had sparked the snake in him. Even though he was no different from her. A part of him, the old sadist, enjoyed watching her body gently shake with unushered sobs as he tortured her more, holding her body against her however he could. “No matter how hard you try to wash me off you, Granger, you’ll always remember how sinfully good I made you feel. A part of you will always want it. Do your friends know How much of a dirty venereal lion their precious Gryffindor is?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed; she could feel the sobs trying to burn their way out of her. Without wasting another moment, she brought her knee as hard as she could up against his groan, taking the few seconds she had to revel in the pure shock of pain that had rocketed across her contorted face. She grabbed her wand and pushed him far from her.

“Stupify!” She cried, her voice trembling now as she ground her teeth together and turned to the door unlocking it. “Alhoamora,”

With that, Hermione grabbed her bag, ignoring the various books that had spilt out onto the ground. She would get them another time; there were plenty of copies and ran straight towards the Safe Room.

~

Malfoy leaned back against a desk, one hand gripping it to keep him standing and the other pressing feverishly against his groin, trying to dull the burning that had his legs shaking, and the air knocked from his lungs.

That filthy dirty mudblood!

Pushing himself from the desk, he straightened his robes making sure to adjust himself as to hide any evidence of what had happened.

He supposed he deserved it pushing her as far as he had, yet Malfoy couldn’t help it. He enjoyed watching her battle the conflicts in her mind. He loved annoying her to the point of no return. Throughout his time at Hogwarts, it had become one of his many enjoyable pass times. He may have always put it down to wanting to bring as much misery to the golden trio, but he had always taken an extra liking to annoying the mudblood.

Since the war had ended, Malfoy couldn’t ignore that he had begun to look at her closer. At first, his anger had been wholly placed on her. She was the stain on the wizarding world that had taken his father. But she was also the one to help save him from the misery his life would have been. If he even would have had one.

But his life in parts had become darker and far lonelier. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it would have been better if the Dark Lord had ended him. He honestly didn’t know which was worse.

Granger had almost provided him with a distraction. That night in his manor, he had tortured himself for kissing her, for enjoying it. That was all the distraction he needed from the demons dancing in his mind, crawling under his sheets and whispering in his ear every opportunity they got.

So often, she had been in control of herself, and it wasn’t easy to make her lose herself in her emotions, to have her leaving everything she believed in at the door. Most importantly, he had never seen her so riled up that her intelligence, the one thing she prided herself on most, was overcome by pure, roaring passion. And he had achieved that.

Suddenly the memory of her curves deliciously pressing against his frame had Malfoys jaw tensing. He could still picture the way her lips parted in a tremble, the way she craved the pleasure . . . had just fallen into it entirely to the point that all logic seemed lost. She had wanted more; she would have given him more. That single thought alone had Malfoys senses overthrown. He had never had another so willing to completely give themselves over-

No. He shook the thought from his head, knowing what it was. What it always was. Granger wasn’t that girl. She had submitted to the pleasure, not to him.

That would be too frightening.

But he could make her . . .

Yet, he couldn’t stop his skin from crawling. No matter how hard Malfoy tried to rewire his brain, ignore words his father had instilled in him from the moment he could crawl, he couldn’t escape his roots. The thought of his fathers face, if he had seen the way his son had almost been completely passionately blinded by an impure witch, had him trying his hardest to force the images from his mind.

It was wrong. The way she made him almost lose himself in need to move in her was insatiable, almost addictive. He hated himself for not taking her, cursing that he had not taken it all regardless of her pleasure. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel her haunting him under his skin, burning his blood and causing him to groan at the thought of how warm she’d feel wrapping around him.

Shower.

He needed a shower. He needed to clean her off him physically and mentally.

She would not have that control; he thought as he turned towards their new safe-room.

*

Hermione entered carefully, scanning the room, half expecting to see limbs drunkenly entwined and discarded items of clothing scattered about in the strangest of places but instead, she was greeted with an empty room. Any sign of their existence here mere hours ago completely gone.

Had everyone gone back to their common rooms already? She had really expected them to have taken advantage of spending the first few nights all together regardless of houses. Guess she was wrong. Perhaps nostalgia was more robust than their shared trauma.

Hermione hurried up the winding staircase to the left, expecting that to be the girls’ dormitory room since it always had been the left side since she could remember. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, and it felt as though her chest had gone numb. You knew better. You absolute i***t! She didn’t stop the barrage of insults at herself as she opened the door only to be greeted with a large room and a single, double bedspread out in the centre. The sheets were silk gold with the duvet a shimmery silver. The drapes were black with two small dark wooden bedside tables on either side and a desk to the left of her. A door sat to the right opposite the bed, and Hermione dropped her things down on the ground and closed the door.

She had truly thought it would have had beds for them all!

But at this point, she couldn’t care less. Hermione didn’t waste a second, pulling her robes off and walking through the door that she assumed was the adjoining bathroom.

And assumed right she did. She walked through to see another door just opposite the one she had opened. Two bedrooms then.

Her eyes were then captured by the black marble walls and white sinks to the right, a mirror occupying the entire space above the basins. A large open shower to the left was next, a half wall blocking most of it so the water wouldn’t spill everywhere. She was caught off guard by the large tub carved from the wall next to the open shower; four large silver pipes sat against the marbled walls above it with four different coloured liquids, Red, Green, Blue and yellow.

She welcomed the distraction as she gaped at the new bathroom. It was nothing like anything in Hogwarts! The prefects’ bathroom had been glorious, but this? This was outstanding.

How had they expected anyone to not pick this over the others?!

But just as quickly as she had welcomed the distraction, she had also welcomed the dirty feeling crawling back up her body once more.

Deciding on a shower, she walked around the half-wall and turned the water on, stepping under the rockets of waterdrops and closing her eyes as she allowed the tears to fall freely. How had she allowed that?

She wasn’t controlled by her carnal desires! She had never been and yet . . . a single moment of fun, a stupid childish revenge plot had lead to her begging Malfoy of all people to . . .

“Crap!” She cried, slamming her fist into the wall only to crumble to the ground in pain, cradling her already purpling hand.

She welcomed the pain as punishment. She couldn’t help but feel as though she had destroyed a part of herself, a part she would never get back. How was she supposed to come back from this when she couldn’t stand to look at herself? She hadn’t been back for more than a day, and already the scandal was her.

What had been intended as a quick shower ended rather quicker than she had planned, her hand swelling.

Hermione gathered herself from the floor and scrubbed her skin quickly but roughly until it hurt before switching off the water and walking back into her temporary room. She reached for her wand and kept it nearby for when she was ready to heal herself, but for now, she would lie back and close her eyes.

Malfoys lips on hers were the first thing she’d see, then the way his hands had hungrily claimed her offering her everything she had wanted. He had demanded her in a way that was terrifying but had her thighs clenching once more on the bed. She didn’t want to imagine him; she didn’t want to feel the heat between her legs at the idea of him between them instead. But she couldn’t help it; even now, it felt like logic had been sucked from the room.

This was a man that hated her, that despised her very being! He had conspired against them, joined the other side! And he was the one filling her brain with every pleasurable chemical possible.

That disgusted her more.

How could she want someone who spoke to her so badly? Who refused to see her as equal and less than the dirt under his shoe. He had hurt her mentally and taken the enjoyment out of it and physically? Physically she knew he wanted too. Sexually he welcomed it; she knew he did; he had said as much, and Pansy had hinted, and she was sure that she wasn’t interested in pain with pleasure, she had suffered enough yet . . . why did it thrill her?

But deep down, she also knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if the situation ever arose. It was him or her.

-

Malfoy had reached the old crow statue, barley waiting for the bird to lift its wings before he was ducking under and rushing up the stairs. Much like Hermione, he had expected the right side to be the males’ side and just like her; he had been surprised to see only a large bed and a half-drunken student sprawled out on the floor. He cast the other student out, slamming the door in their face before immediately Malfoy’s mind was all the things he could do to put that bed to good use.

Yet, just as quickly as he was welcoming the thoughts, he was banishing them away, cursing himself for his human weakness. He couldn’t tare her from his mind; she was like an infection that had somehow gathered under his skin, slithering her way to his brain. The kiss before had been hard enough for Malfoy to ignore, but this?

Yanking his tie from his collar, Malfoy threw it onto the bed, sinking onto the edge of the bed himself.

The past year had taken its toll on Malfoy. His mind riddled with nightmares, his body felt as though it were in a constant state of pain and his soul? Well, it felt as though the Dark Lord had stripped him of it and handed it to the Dementors.

Just like his family name had become, Malfoy had become a shell of himself.

He rubbed his hands across his face in frustration. He may hate feeling it, but thinking of Granger was better. It was a distraction from the emptiness that ate him up.

Pulling his robes from his body Malfoy threw them behind him along with his tie as he strode towards the bathroom, towel in hand. It was so different from the Slytherin dorms bathrooms apart from the bath. They had been outrageously lucky in the luxury of their common room, and Malfoy had been pleasantly surprised that it was the case here also.

Throwing his towel on the sink, he strode to the shower, his eyes narrowing at the puddles around his feet.

He wasn’t the first here.

His eyes glanced at the opposite door. Even if someone was there, they would hear the water. Regardless, being seen naked wasn’t insecurity for Malfoy, and so he stood under the shower letting the hot water wash over him, his hair plastered to the sides of his face as he threw his head back.

Every night he tried to wash it away. He would try his hardest to force some of the demons down in his mind, but it never worked.

Each time he would open his eyes, and there it would be, the remainder of his mistake. Peering up at him in his left arm was the symbol that ended his life.

Malfoy clenched his jaw, the urge to scream and lash out against the wall almost too overwhelming.

He didn’t want this life; he didn’t choose it. He did what he had too. He took the role that was handed to him. Why couldn’t anyone see he had no other choice? He had to fight for his family, for his name . . . Who else would fight for him?

No one else cared. All his years at Hogwarts and all he had to show for it was a posse of fake friends that when he needed them were nowhere to be seen. His family were, though. They always were. How was he supposed to turn his back on them?

No. He couldn’t think about it anymore; he couldn’t control himself if he did, so he allowed his mind to flow to the only other mind consuming option he had. Hermione Granger.

Almost immediately, Malfoys shoulders had tensed, her chocolate brown eyes appearing behind his eyelids as they stared, large and wide, into his pleading with him. Begging him. He could feel the blood flow through him, his breathing rigid now as that fire erupted inside him. He could still remember how warm she felt, how tight engulfing his fingers deep inside her—even the way her hips lifted up against him, the way she clawed at him for more.

Malfoy couldn’t help it; his hand reached for his throbbing c**k, wrapping his fingers around his shaft as he imagined her sitting on her knees, her skirt fanned out around her, barely able to cover her wet knickers. He imagined her legs spread apart under her and her hands pressed against the ground in front of her as she leaned forwards, staring at him, wanting to please him. Her shirt was tucked neatly into her skirt, her tie brushing his feet as that green silk bra flashed in front of his eyes, her lips pouting at him.

He could feel the water burn against his skin as he thrust his head forward, his hand moving faster against himself. If he focused hard enough, he could almost feel her breath washing down his skin as she pressed her lips against the tip of his c**k, her tongue lashing out as her eyes held his.

“f**k,” he breathed, his free hand slamming down against the wall opposite him as he leaned forwards, feeling the world around him disappear into her eyes.

She took him in her mouth, and he could feel it coming, feel the wave roaring to life in the pit of his stomach as he stroked himself harder. He slid his hands into her hair, grasping fistfuls as he leads her mouth back down against him, holding her for a few seconds as she reached down to touch herself-

The sound of gasp echoing through the shower had Malfoys eyes shooting open. But it was too late; he couldn’t stop even if he wanted too. It slammed into him as he felt his body tense, his eyes falling on Granger standing in the bathroom staring at him in shock.