Hermione cringes against the floor next to her bed.� The pounding is growing louder and more
demanding.� She clutches her wand,
knowing there is nothing on earth that would make her use it against the
intruder.� Suddenly the sound of
shattering glass explodes down the hall.�
'He's come in through the window.' She acknowledges.�
His heavy footfalls sound on the hardwood floor as he
approaches her bedroom.� He is banging
his fists against the door. He doesn't stop or pause to allow her time to respond
or to open it.� He is determined and
relentless in his objective.�
�
The thudding of his fists turns into crashing sounds.� Hermione knows he must be driving his
shoulder into the door.� Knowing he will
break it down eventually, Hermione seizes her courage.� She throws down her wand and runs to open the
door, flinging it open.� In a fraction of
a second, she takes in his startling appearance as he stands before her filling
the frame of the doorway.�
Draco Malfoy is wearing solid black expertly tailored robes and
he has a jagged looking gash on his upper left arm that's oozing dark red
blood.� His knuckles are cut and bleeding
and his bare feet are beginning to bleed over the new wounds he has incurred
from crashing through her plate glass window.�
Hermione pushes down her fear.� She can handle this.� She has prepared herself with every
imaginable literary reference.� As if
bidden, a factoid from her reading swims to the front of her thoughts.�
�Veelas
can track their chosen mate relentlessly over long distances when driven by the
mate-bonding instinct.�
'It�s not supposed to happen like this.' She thinks.� �He's injured himself and may well hurt me
too in the state he is in.�� She curses
whatever incompetent official at the Ministry who was responsible for screwing
up the containment wards that were supposed to secure him.
�
He bursts through the doorway, his eyes finding her petite
form in the semi-darkness of the room.�
He has followed her scent here.� She
is the center of his universe.� The ache
to possess her is throbbing in his blood, clouding his brain.� He knows the time has come.� She must submit to this, to him, now.
�
Before she can think he is on her, driving her backward to
the bed, falling on top of her.� He crushes
his lips to hers and grinds his arousal against her painfully.�
�
The feel of her beneath him is like a drug to him.� The more her lips yield the more he wants her
submission.� He can't taste her enough,
can't touch her enough.� He needs to
claim her so that she and everyone else will know that she belongs to him.
�
Her body stiffens in alarm as his weight presses down on her.� His eyes are glazed and there is no sign of
the man she knows in their depths.� His
eyes shine like mercury, his pupils narrowed to pinpoints; his face is a mask
of determination. She struggles to remain calm as she remembers what she has
read over the past months.��
�Male
veela can react savagely during their initial mating, often an extreme show of
dominance is used to entice the female to accept mating.�
�
She forces herself to relax beneath him, ignoring the vise
like grip he has on her body. She knows she has to ally his fears of
rejection.�
