Hermione Granger is scared. The nightmares are frequent and sleep is rare. Her relationship with Ron is not what she thought it was. Stuck in a circle of despair she is trying hard to regain the famed Gryffindor courage while maintaining appearance...
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~ Draco Malfoy
She had been under him. Completely his for the taking. The Mudblood. He had never been that close. Never taken in so much of her all at once. And no matter what he would force himself to believe in the coming months of agony he knew that right there, at that moment, his knees bare inches from her trembling ones, in the seconds he watched her chest heaving with nervous emotion, he had wanted to bend down and steady her rising breast with his hand, arrest the flutter of her heart and capture the mouth, so ensconced in biting itself in his mouth.
Bloody Hell.
He was beyond screwed. And the evidence was hard in his school pants, the fit already narrowing, french tailors loved giving wizards slim fit legs, only making his situation uncomfortable. Because no matter how hard Draco Malfoy tried, and how well he masked his face, the same could not be said for his cock. And she, the Mudblood has put his member into a trance.
Bloody hell. He thought again. He had needed to run. And run he did. Leaving behind a shaken witch, one that had driven his dirty thoughts home just mere moments prior by kneeling on her knees, positioned perfectly to help him reach the ecstasy he always seemed to be chasing when around her.
He had swooped into the nearest bathrooms on that floor, locking himself in a stall, feeling again, like a fresh-faced first year again who could not control his pants around girls. She reduced him to that, a pathetic state he had never been.
Malfoys never lost their cool, their infamous ice faces were the stuff of magical legend. He quickly took care of his situation and attempted to steady his breathing. Hidden in that stall, he felt the world tilt. Colors quickly blurred as he again focused to balance himself. Salazar knew he had lost control, and he hated it, tears of frustration at his slippings surfacing before he punched the door in an effort to regain lost territory.
Still breathing hard, air forcing itself into his nostrils, he emerged barely upright from the stall needing to leave soon for the fear of being discovered by the hordes of students as the break between morning classes was fast approaching.
Why had he even decided to go to the library this early in the morning? Had he lost his mind? He could have been seen interacting with the Mudblood. They had always met in secret, in the darkness, just how snakes liked it. She made him break his routine, hard habits carved into marble being shattered by the rawness of her. He had had a fitful sleep, nothing new there, he was a fool for even trying. He had barely made it out of the dorms, hoping to escape Nott's watchful eye or Pansy's lingering annoyance. And he had managed just that. He remembered counting the floor patches barely recognizing that his feet had carried him to that section of the library, carried him to her...
For lack of anything better to do, and no clear agenda he decided to get some food, an early lunch of sorts and leave before the sickening crowds came. Perhaps he would even go to his evening class, the one he never showed up to, just to keep his mind off things, he decided. Slinking into the Great Hall, he chose his usual perch, and examining the food around him, settled on honey chicken and almond bread pudding. Making quick work of his measly portions he sat, scanning the High Table for teachers. He spotted Madam Pince, which meant that the library was empty and closed.
