Bond

3

"New Perspective" by Panic! At The Disco

******

"Count them."

Smack. "Ah! One."

"Very good. Again."

Smack. "Mmh. Two."

"Wonderful. Again."

Smack! "AH! Th-Three..." SMACK. "Four!" SMACK. SMACK. SMACK! "Five! Si-Six! Seven..." She pressed her eyes shut as the heated stings on her backside were replaced with the cool fingertips of his hand as they brushed down her ass cheek. There, Draco traced the outline of his palm, making a pleased sound when Hermione arched her back in response. The bite of the spanks had spread out into a heat across her skin, painful and yet oddly satisfying, and by the time his hand came down, unexpectedly, she all but screamed, "Eight!"

"What a good little pet you are," he praised, changing up the focus to her other cheek with the stubble of his chin as he brushed his face against the less sensitive bundle of flesh. Hermione's fingers curled tighter around the chair's top rail, her knees digging into the splat, toes curling. She made the brave attempt to turn her face and glance back at him in all of his glory, dressed to the nines tonight in a charcoal button-up and black silk vest, the arms of his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His Dark Mark contrasted the ivory skin tone of his forearm, making it the center of attention as it rested against his dress slacks. It was a sight to behold; Draco Malfoy, on his knees as Hermione Granger positioned herself on a simple wooden chair, save but for the nice bit of plush designed into the seating to protect her knees from going numb. She had been ordered to strip and present herself on this chair as soon as they had entered 'The Punishment Room.' Adequately named, it held an array of combination toys from the bondage room as well as several others. This was the first room she hadn't been allowed to choose, reasoning been that, because she had denied him earlier this week, she needed to be taught a lesson. Why she agreed to it was beyond her, but, thinking back, maybe she had egged it on a bit.

The guilt should have been there. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that what she had done with Draco Malfoy at Bond two weekends in a row was neither logical nor moral. If the black domino mask had anything to say on the matter, it was a blaring siren that warned her, as Luna had suggested, to stay away. He was a married man, and that's all there was to it.

So why, in the middle of this Wednesday afternoon, filing paperwork at her desk, did she fantasize about him? It wasn't stable. He wasn't hers, and she wasn't his.

'That's what you are, aren't you, Hermione? You're my little slut.'

Alright. Maybe at Bond, in some twisted, unholy way, she had allowed herself to belong to him for one night. But that certainly didn't mean she was his right now, in her office, even as the evidence of her arousal dampened between her legs. She sighed, setting her face in her hands as she rested her elbows atop the table, silently reprimanding herself for taking it so far. This was something highly inappropriate, fantasizing about Draco Malfoy in her place of work when she knew she needed to make copies of the Jameson case to take down to Floor two...

A knock came to her office door, and she clamped her skirted legs together forcefully as her secretary, Scarlet Whempleton, stepped inside. Scarlet's eyes were wide, and she fanned herself with her clipboard as she said, "Miss Granger, you have a visitor."

"What?" Hermione raised both of her eyebrows, shuffling some paperwork nervously on her desk to calm the heat that radiated over her skin from her fantasies. She found it shocking someone would want to speak to her in her office -usually, when someone wished to discuss the legalities of magical creatures, they would discuss it with her supervisor in length before making an appointment. "I don't remember having a visitor scheduled."