A/N- Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the nice reviews! I really appreciate them. Now, I don't want to give too much away, but this chapter is more adult than the rest… um… sexually. So I really didn't want to edit it out and I know I've seen way worse, just know that the rating is M and if you are underage or uncomfortable with sexual situations, you've been warned not to read this. That being said, if you do want to read this then pretend I didn't warn you so that you can be surprised lol.

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"Perfect. Just try not to let him drool on you, it'll stain my silk shirt and I want it back," Ginny said, smiling happily at Hermione while she put the finishing touches on her friend's makeup. The Head Girl promptly rolled her eyes and nervously pulled at the straps of the shirt she had been stuffed in to by Ginny. It was slightly too small for her; she felt like her breasts were about to escape and ricochet off her chin.

"Are you sure this shirt is umm… safe?" she asked weakly. Ginny just laughed and shook her head.

"Yes. And besides, it's not supposed to be 'safe', it's supposed to be sexy."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't feel sexy. She felt uncomfortable and weird, like she was trying to be someone she wasn't. Only silly girls with little sense and lots of air in their skulls wore such a flimsy garment in early February.

She mutely took the grey ankle boots that Ginny handed her and slipped them on, still scrutinizing her reflection. She supposed that with a heavy winter cloak and the right scarf, no one would even know that her breasts looked like they could feed a small country.

"Do you and Dean want to grab a carriage with Harry and I?" Ginny asked her.

"Umm…" If Ginny saw her all bundled up, she might make her remove the extra layers… But surely she wouldn't say anything right in front of Dean… And it would definitely be nice to have other people around, because she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to say to Dean. So they'd shared the same house in the same school for the past 6 years; she knew suits of armor she'd exchanged more dialogue with. Yes, a conversation buffer was probably a good thing in this case. "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you guys in the entrance hall, I just have to grab something from my room."

And she had to do it very quickly and sneakily because she was NOT in the mood to run into a certain cradle-robbing whoremonger!

She scooted past Ginny, who hurried her along with a slap to the arse, making Hermione jump and shoot the redhead a scandalized expression. Was that appropriate girl friend behavior? She thought not, but apparently it was not only appropriate, it was quite hilarious according to Ginny, who was now clutching her side and laughing at Hermione's look of indignation.

How rude!

Letting it slide against her better judgment, she continued down the stairs of the Gryffindor girls' dorms at full speed and practically threw herself through the secret portrait passageway that would take her to her own common room. She didn't stop running until she was squatted beside the back of the canvas, listening for any sign of the-bastard-who-must-not-be-named. She couldn't hear anything, but that didn't stop her from easing the portrait open and peeking out, just to be safe.

The coast was clear. Oh yes, she should have known. He didn't want to miss the carriages and get stuck walking.

He must get enough exercise carrying that big head of his around all day, she thought with a satisfied smirk, mentally storing the insult for later use to his face.

It was with a much calmer gait that she proceeded up the stairs and to her bedroom. Not because she was excited to get to Hogsmead, but because she really just wanted this day to be over with, and the sooner it started, the sooner she figured she'd be back in her nice warm bed, not trying to make awkward small talk with a boy she hardly knew. Oh joy… Why was she doing this again? And more importantly, was it too late to feign a sudden, fatal illness?

She coughed into her hand as she stepped into her bedroom, testing the waters of her acting abilities. It sounded like a cat retching up a hairball. She would definitely have to do better if she was going to fool Ginny, who'd just seen her alive and well not even five minutes prior. She tried several more times, pounding her chest to try and give her hacking a more realistic quality.

"I'd pat you on the back if I believed you to be choking. That was honestly pathetic, Granger," came a silky, drawling voice from the bed. Her bed!

Hermione spun, shrieked and turned puce in a matter of seconds.

"Malfoy! Get—What—How did you—Ugh! What are you doing in my room! On my bed!" she yelled. The Head Boy didn't even flinch from his position of lounging casually across her comforter, his hands folded neatly behind his head.

"Just thought I'd come and see you off," he shrugged. Her fists balled at her sides. "And what a sight it is." He sat up, not even attempting to hide where his focus had shifted. "Is it cold in here, or are your breasts just happy to see me?"

She slowly looked down, horrified to see that he was right. The silk fabric of the shirt was just thin enough to show the slightly raised outline of her nipples. It was cold!

"Humph!" she huffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest to block Malfoy's view. For some reason, his smirk only widened and his gaze didn't budge.

"Oh no, Granger! Please don't cross your arms like that. It definitely doesn't push your boobs up and make them look deliciously gargantuan or anything."

She literally growled with anger, but he was undeterred, and continued to ogle her breasts with something like amusement and barely-masked hunger in his eyes.

"Stop it! Just… stop being… so… so bloody—you!" she screeched, stomping her foot on the floor.

"Yes, I'm really quite insufferable, aren't I?" he replied conversationally.

"What!" Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"I just live you rile your feathers. I must spend several hours a day plotting and planning to do just that," he said simply. He almost seemed to be sympathizing with her. What was going on?

She could only stare at him. This felt like some kind of trick.

"Oh, and you find me really, very ugly. Hideous even." The corner of his lip was starting to twitch, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was rather enjoying himself. She never knew what he was going to say or do and it was starting to drive her even crazier, if that was possible. That was probably his intention all along.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, impatiently tapping her foot. Her arms were still crossed, pushing up her breasts, and the movement of her leg was making them jiggle ever so slightly. He could feel parts of his anatomy responding, his boxers starting to become uncomfortably warm and constricting. He couldn't look away, but knew that if he didn't, his now semi-hard would blossom into a full-fledged erection, and he didn't think she would buy that it was just his magic wand, even though that wouldn't technically be a lie.

Slowly, his eyes traveled upward, to her pursed lips, freckled nose, and lastly, her glare of death. He couldn't back down and give her the upper hand, so he shot back with his best 'yeah-you-know-you-want-this' eyes. Again, he felt the tingle of blood-flow to his nether region, which surprised him. It was somehow turning him on to see her all fiery and passionate, even though that fiery passionate-ness was most likely because she wanted to gut and stuff him.

He shouldn't want to put his penis in something so potentially dangerous, so very badly, but he did, so very, very badly. He supposed it would sort of serve it right. It was really his penis's fault that he'd gotten himself into this crazy triangle of 'fight—sort of make up—fight' in the first place.

Yeah sure, Bro, came that American-accented penis-voice he'd heard once before. When the going gets tough, blame the penis. Geesh, and I thought I meant more to you than that…

It was probably not a good sign that his penis was getting sentimental on him.

"Hello! Earth to Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, waving her hand in front on his face. He instantly snapped back to attention, and just in time: he was about to start apologizing to his penis for being so insensitive.

"What—are—you—doing—in—my—room?" she asked again, making sure to punctuate every word so even he would understand.

"What?"

Or not…

"Why are you in here!" He was getting on her very last nerve. Strangling him was such fun…

"Well, I'm definitely not in here to distract you and make you miss your date," he said with an innocent grin that didn't quite mask the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What is with you and all this 'say-the-opposite-of-what-you-mean' bollocks? That stopped being amusing when we were five!"

"Reverse psychology," he shrugged, shifting slightly to relieve some of the pressure down under. "By the way, Hogsmead is sure to be a grand ol' time today. You should definitely go and not stay here and join me in the bed."

" 'The' bed? It is not the bed, it is MY bed and you shouldn't be in it or near it or even thinking about touching it with your little finger! Get out!" She was becoming hysterical, while he hardly batted an eyelash at her outburst, which in turn made her even more incensed.

"Yes, you do want me to leave, and not stay so we can play with our fun parts," he said, wiggling his brows and smirking too hugely even for him.

"Wow, you must be the world's worst reverse psychologist, because I really didn't want to go to Hogsmead, but you've made me realize that I would rather be anywhere with anyone, as long as it means I don't have to waste one more minute of my life standing in the same space as you!" Fuming, she marched to her wardrobe, threw it open and ruffled through the mass of robes until she found her winter cloak. She then ran her hand along the top shelf in search of a scarf and possibly some gloves. "When I turn around, you had better be gone."

After she'd retrieved her things, she had to take a deep, calming breath. She knew he hadn't left or she would've heard him, and she was less than pleased.

She slowly spun on her heel to find that he hadn't moved an inch. If anything, he had made himself even more comfortable in her bed, having nestled his legs under the comforter. Her eyes were blazing fire but he seemed not to notice. Grinning cheekily, he patted the pillow beside him and said, "There's room for two, or even three if you like. I think I could manage you and Weaselette together. Have you two ever—you know…?" He pursed his lips and mimed kissing with way too much tongue.

"OUT!" When he didn't move yet again, she dropped her cloak on the floor, grabbed his arm and pulled with all her might. Unfortunately, all her might wasn't good enough, and she somehow ended up thrown forward, as if their arms were made of thick elastic bands. She flailed around to prevent the oncoming collision, but it was no use. She toppled right into none other than Draco Malfoy.

Oh no, oh no, oh no…

It couldn't get any worse, except that it could, because her breasts had landed directly in his face, causing her to slowly die of mortification, and she wasn't the only one going towards the light.

"Holy Merlin's fancy knickers, I have died and gone to boobie heaven!" came Draco's muffled voice from between her breasts. "I knew it existed!"

For a moment she was paralyzed, unable to decide if she could bear to get up and face him, or if it would be a better idea to just stay there, forever and ever, until the school crumbled to the ground in a freak earthquake, and somehow buried only him in the process.

But then his arms were around her. She could feel his calloused hand gripping her bum with force and pulling her hard against him… And he was hard! She could tell, even though he was under the covers of her bed, which was thick with down feathers.

Did this mean that he wanted her? No, it couldn't, could it? She thought his act was just that—an act. But this was real; the evidence was undeniable, plain as day, pressed firmly into her thigh. A rushing feeling of heat flowed through her at the thought, settling on her chest and cheeks. She hoped he couldn't tell from his position underneath her. She squirmed as the burning warmth traveled lower and she heard his sharp intake of breath, making her still her motions. She swallowed hard, knowing she should stop this, urging her body to obey her brain before things got out of control.

Still she didn't get up. He ground into her and squeezed her arse just rough enough to get her to jerk.

Oh no…

She felt his lips on her chest. She wanted to move, she really did, but there was this feeling… She couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from, she just knew that it was making her uncomfortably warm all over… and making her breath catch in her throat… and her pulse race. It was like an itch she was unable to scratch. She needed to scratch it… So she didn't get up… Against all of her knowledge of who he was and how he only wanted to hurt her, she couldn't make her legs move.

Draco couldn't believe what was happening. Somehow things had gone from very wrong to very, very right in a matter of moments. One second she was screaming at him to get out of her room, and the next she had unintentionally fallen into his face. He was well aware that she didn't do it on purpose; as much as he'd convinced her of her subconscious wanting him, this was definitely an accident.

He also knew he shouldn't take advantage of the situation, and hadn't intended to. He'd tried to just make a joke and save the image of her beautiful breasts for later use with his lotion bottle… but something had happened. His body had responded so instantaneously to her being on top of him that he couldn't control his arms from snaking their way around her and pulling her close. It had been so long since they'd done anything but fight, that he'd almost forgotten how much she turned him on. He groaned and rubbed against her, closing his eyes and nuzzling her chest before placing his lips on her bare skin.

He hadn't expected her to comply, so when she didn't push him away and run as fast and far as she could, the last bits of control he had over his body evaporated into thin air. His lips sought her with renewed fervor, biting and sucking to his heart's content. And still she didn't stop him! Should he test his luck?

It seemed he had no choice. His erection was straining in his robes. He wanted her, and he decided to take the fact that she wasn't slapping him as permission.

His mouth continued on the path towards her own, nipping her skin when his tongue wasn't giving him enough of her taste. He was rewarded when she moved against him, her hip making glorious friction against his groin. But it wasn't enough. Too much fabric and feathers separated them, and he wanted more. He wanted to feel the heat he saw in her eyes, pooled between her legs and pressed against him.

His hands moved to grip her upper arms, and with a series of pushing, pulling, and some frantic kicking of the sheets, he had made his way on top of her.

He grinned down at his blushing beauty like a panther hulking over its prey, watching her pink-splotched chest rise and fall in rapid succession. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, and she gasped at the intensity.

"Dra—Malfoy, we shou—"

With one swift swoop he cut her off, pressing against her slightly parted lips, his tongue slithering out a second later. She only fought for an instant, out of reflex it seemed, but then she opened up for him. Her hands flew to his hair and roughly ran through his silky locks. He almost thought for one fleeting moment that she was trying to get him off of her, but then he felt himself pulled harder against her face as she arched into him. A deep groan formed somewhere in his esophagus.

She was fighting back. It wasn't fair… Now how was he ever going to end this?

All thoughts of stopping were driven from his mind when he felt her legs wrap around him and her pelvis brush against the straining tent in his pants. He had to break the kiss as a shudder ran through him.

"Oh Merlin… Granger… Hermione… You're really asking for it, aren't you?" he said through his heavy breathing.

She shrugged and, smiling crookedly, replied, "Maybe." Her legs gripped tighter and she rubbed herself against his groin once more. There was a sharp intake of breath—from her—at the contact, and could that even have been a soft moan? He took the initiative and ground himself into her and was rewarded when she cried out. His erection swelled at the sound.

He kissed her again, one hand reaching down to grasp her arse and pull her closer to him while his cock worked her relentlessly through their clothing.

The sounds of grunts, gasps, and a lot of heavy breathing filled the room. At long last he finally felt her small hands pawing at the hem of his shirt, which he took as clearance to do the same to her. His fingers snaked their way up her stomach, pulling the silky tank top along with them. At the same time he felt her fingernails lightly scrape his abs, travel up and around his pecs, then back down, lower… swirling around his belly button and following the trail of fine hairs into the waistband of his pants.

She paused, suddenly horrorstruck by what she had almost done, and removed her hand as though burned by the fabric of his trousers.

"Please don't stop," he begged. When she didn't return her hand, he had the urge to grab it and shove it down his pants himself. He quickly fought down that urge, knowing that it would never end well in a million years, and instead tried a different tactic. He slowly trailed a single digit between her breasts, down her stomach, tracing the hem for a moment before continuing on. He followed the seam-line of her jeans, over the zipper and lower, until he was lightly running his fingers over her crotch. She squirmed but didn't stop him. He applied more pressure, massaging her sex through her pants, his thumb running in circles over her clit area.

After a short while she was raising her hips to meet his hand. Ducking his head down, he nipped at the soft skin of her neck, distracting her while his fingers worked to undo the button and zipper of her pants. His hand snuck beneath her jeans, bypassing her knickers and going straight for her silky flesh. Which was—to Draco's shock and delight—very silky.

"Granger—you—?" The words were barely a grunt; he was so aroused simple speech was almost impossible.

"I—umm…"

Oh god, Draco Malfoy knew that she shaved—down there! She quickly tried to close her legs while fighting the sudden jolts of arousal that he'd awakened within her.

His hand fought its way lower and she stilled, her thighs squeezing a few of his fingers.

"Come on, Hermione." He smirked down at her with smoldering eyes and her sex throbbed. "Open up, I promise you'll like this."

She wordlessly obeyed; she hardly had a choice in the matter.

He proceeded slowly, his fingers first lightly brushing over each of her outer lips, before parting them and tracing along her inner labia. When they finally brushed over her clit, her legs jerked up involuntarily and she had to grip the sheets for support. It was too much, the feelings so intense and so new and so raw—she couldn't control herself. She moaned.

He slowly moved a single digit to her entrance, dipping inside and transferring the liquid to her clit so he could glide smoothly over the little nub. She had to grind her teeth to keep from crying out.

"Oh Granger, you're so… wet. Fuck." Draco had to momentarily close his eyes and bite his lip. Though any part of her had yet to make contact with his penis, he felt like it might explode prematurely—like, Weasley prematurely, which was simply unacceptable.

When his hand stopped moving, Hermione opened her eyes and stared, as his face seemed to contort into some kind of pained expression. After a few seconds of this, her eyes widened in horror and the reality of the situation sunk in. Complete and utter humiliation finally surpassed her raging hormones. Draco Malfoy knew she had—err—woman juices—for him!

"I have to go."

Before he could comprehend what was happening, she had wiggled out from underneath him and leapt off the bed. Her arms flew out to the side to help her regain balance; her legs felt like jelly and it didn't help that her pants were down and the bottoms were dragging on the floor.

"Ginny's waiting—and—umm—" She was bouncing up and down, trying to pull up her too-tight jeans and refasten them. "—the carriages have—probably—you know—moved by now."

The zipper was up and the button was through the hole. She frantically pawed the ground, collecting her cloak, gloves and scarf, and bolted towards the exit.

"So… bye then!" She threw open the door, not bothered that she was leaving him in her room or on her bed. He could try on her knickers and bras for all she cared at that moment, as long as she was far, far away from him when he did so.

She was out the portrait hole and halfway down the hall before she stopped to breathe and pull on her cloak. She also made a sad attempt at straightening the hair Ginny had worked so hard on, but knew it was no use. Conceding defeat, she walked on along the empty corridor. Everyone really was already in Hogsmead.

She heard footsteps behind her. Correction, almost everyone was already in Hogsmead.

"Granger, hold up!" came the voice of the last person she wanted to hear. She couldn't turn to face him. Not yet. Not when she hadn't even had time to process what she was going to pretend never happened in the first place.

"Granger! I need to talk to you for a second!"

"Talk? Talk about what? What could we possibly have to talk about?" Her voice was a high-pitched squeak, like she was playing on fast forward. "I mean, nothing happened! Nothing! You didn't touch my boobs or vagina and I didn't almost grab your... your—"

She gulped.

Fucking. Balls.

Draco Malfoy was not alone. This was definitely not her day.

"Umm… Hello Professor Dumbledore."