Disclaimer...

The brilliant J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and all the amazing characters. All that's mine is the sexiness. And I have a beautiful daughter named Piper. She's mine too.

This story is rated M. Be warned of the sexiness. Don't let your children read this. If you are under the legal age wherever you live, you should probably not read this. And if you do, please don't rat me out to your parents.

Smut, Smut, Smut. Dirty Smut. Fluffy Smut. Smutty Smut. More Smut. Smut.

Enjoy the Draco Malfoy hotness...

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A/N:

So. Here we go. I hope you love reading this story as much as I love writing it. I have a preview of the smuttiness from a later chapter (Chapter 3, I think…) posted on my Tumblr, (missbambiwoods) …so you can check that out if you want, and follow me while you're there! I'll post previews and links and answer questions and stuff there.

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Chapter 1 The Princess and the Dragon

Hermione was freezing. And starving, and a whole lot of other things that she was trying not to think about. She had been locked away in this tower (yes, tower) in some castle located on a cliff overlooking the sea, for Merlin only knew how long.

Hermione, Harry and Ron had been on a mission trying to find a Horcrux, when everything went terribly wrong. They had been in the Forest of Dean, formulating a plan, when all of a sudden, their wards were somehow penetrated, and Death Eaters had surrounded them. Hermione had just reached for her wand, when she felt rough hands grab her from behind. The last thing she saw was Harry looking at her in horror, and then everything went black. When she woke up, she was alone in this dreary tower. She had no idea what had happened to Harry and Ron; she only hoped they had somehow managed to escape.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a loud "POP!". A frail looking House Elf stood before her, holding a tray with a bowl of soup, and a glass of water. "Hanky is bringing Miss her supper!" the little Elf squeaked, setting the tray on the shabby table next to the cot.

Hermione sighed, and sat down to eat, knowing that even though the food was abysmal, she needed what little sustenance it provided. "Thank-"

"Oh no, Miss! The Dark Lord is telling Hanky not to allow Miss to speak to him anymore. He is saying that Hanky is to give Miss her supper, and to tell Miss that someone will be up to collect her shortly." The little Elf looked sad as he delivered Hermione the message, and she could only imagine what they were going to do to her to try to get information from her this time.

She nodded at the Elf; knowing that if she tried to speak to him again he would be forced to punish himself, and he disappeared with another loud "POP!".

Wonderful. She was just gaining her strength back from the last time she had to endure Voldemort's questioning. It had taken everything in her to keep her mental blocks up while he Crucio'd her until she'd blacked out. She was sure that this time he would go even harder on her, but she still wouldn't give him any information. She wasn't afraid of Voldemort; not really. She was more afraid of what was going to happen to the Wizarding World if Voldemort won this war.

She finished her meager supper, and started to prepare herself by putting up the mental blocks in her mind. Every memory involving Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Order was carefully tucked away in a well hidden place in the back of her mind.

Before long, the door banged open, and in walked a masked Death Eater, who grabbed her by the hair, and started dragging her down the winding stairs of the tower. He threw her unceremoniously to the floor, at the feet of the darkest wizard of all time.

"Ahh, Miss Granger. And how is our favorite Mudblood today?" Voldemort hissed in his snakelike drawl. Bellatrix Lestrange sat twirling her hair to his left; while Nagini, his snake, slithered near his feet on the floor.

Hermione refused to answer him and kept her eyes cast downward; focusing on a crack in the stone floor.

"Not talking to me today? A pity. I was growing rather fond of our witty banter." He started walking in a circle around her. "No matter, no matter." His chilling laugh sent unwanted shivers up her spine. "I only sent for you today to show you a little surprise. Yaxley! Bring in our guest!"

Hermione finally lifted her eyes and looked towards the door. To her horror, Alistor Moody was dragged in, looking dreadful, and near death. Their eyes met, and Hermione could tell from the look in Moody's eyes that he knew he wasn't meant to be in this world much longer. A steady stream of blood trickled out of a gash from the left side of his face, trailing down his cheek and disappearing into the neckline of his robes.

"So, Miss Granger, here is a member of your precious Order; maybe even a friend. Shall he die because of you? Shall I kill him for the information which you neglect to indulge?" Voldemort toyed with his wand and smiled evilly at Hermione.

Tears gathered in her eyes, and her heart was conflicted. She didn't want Moody to die, but how could she save him without throwing Harry at Voldemort's mercy?

"Granger," Moody's gruff voice interrupted her inner turmoil. "Look at me." She looked into his eyes, and they were softer than she had ever seen them. "I'm going to die anyway. Fight this. You are strong. The brightest witch of the age. Don't let me die in vain."

"Enough!" Voldemort hissed. He turned his wand on Moody. "Any last words of wisdom, Auror?"

Moody's eyes never left Hermione's. "Potter and Weasley are fine. You're going to be fine. Someone-"

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed, a jet of green light shooting out and hitting Moody square in the chest, and Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was no more.

Bellatrix laughed like a madwoman, clapping like a child that had just seen a wonderful show.

Voldemort walked over to Moody and kicked his lifeless body. "Take Miss Granger back to her room and let her think about what just happened because of her. Maybe during our next visit she'll prove to be more helpful." He then turned to his beloved snake. "Dinner, my pet." To Hermione's horror, the vile snake slithered over to Moody and started constricting herself around him. Hermione had to choke back the bile that started to rise in her throat at the sound of bones breaking.

With that the masked Death Eater grabbed Hermione once again and took her to the tower. Only once she was locked alone in the room did she allow the tears to fall. She threw herself on the little cot and sobbed. She cried until her throat was raw and her tears ran dry. Finally she cried herself to sleep, but even in sleep, her dreams were plagued with Voldemort's evil laugh and the sight of Moody's lifeless eyes.

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Hermione was jolted awake by a noise coming from over by the window. It was still dark; the only light in the room was the eerie glow cast by the moon. She squinted her eyes but couldn't see anything in the shadows. Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and another pinned her body to the cot so she couldn't move. She struggled against her captor, but it was of no use.

"Granger," a voice whispered in her ear. "I'm here to take you home. If I take my hand off your mouth can I trust you not to scream?"

She stilled. Who was this person? It couldn't be one of her friends; Voldemort had taunted her with the fact that only Death Eaters could get onto the property. It wouldn't be a Death Eater; why would they be sneaking around when they had full run of the place? She supposed that she should go along with this "savior", and see if maybe she could escape somehow.

She nodded her head slowly.

The hand was removed from her mouth, and the body shifted so she wasn't taking all of its weight. She tilted her head back and looked to see who her supposed rescuer was.

She gasped.

Steely grey eyes stared back at her through carelessly messy, platinum blond bangs. Her eyes trailed down his long aristocratic nose and stopped on his slightly pink lips; twisted into the smirk that forever graced his features.

Draco Malfoy.

Hermione supposed he was able to enter through the wards because even though he now fought for the Order, he still wore Voldemort's mark. The Dark Mark; a constant reminder of all the wrong choices that he had ever made, and choices that had been made for him before he was even old enough to form his own opinion.

The Malfoys had joined their side shortly after Dumbledore's death. AKA: Draco's failure. Voldemort had been extremely angry at Draco for not completing his mission, and he had banished the three Malfoys to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Prisoners in their own home. Snape had snuck in one night and left three bodies of fallen Death Eaters, Polyjuiced to look like the Malfoys, and strategically placed them to look like the family had committed mass-suicide. He had brought them to the Order, and after hours of grueling questioning under Veritaserum, the Order confirmed that they had switched their allegiances, and agreed to keep them safe for the duration of the war. Playing turncoat didn't make them any more pleasant to be around though, make no mistake. They were still Malfoys, after all. So the two elder Malfoys chose to flee to Paris and stay at a safe house the Order had set up there, to be away from the people they deemed beneath them in their world, while Draco chose to stay and fight alongside the Order.

"Malfoy," she breathed. "Why..."

"There's no time for explanations or pleasantries, Granger. We have to get the fuck out of here. Now." He lifted up off of her and pulled her with him towards the window.

"But how will we..." It was then that she noticed the broom standing next to the window. "No... No, I can't. I can't go on a broom, Malfoy. There must be another way." She was terrified of flying. Something about being so high in the air and being supported only by a thin bit of wood... No. No flying for Hermione Granger.

"It's the only option we have, Granger. If you want out of here, you will do it on a broom." He gestured outside. "They have anti-Apparation wards surrounding the place. It took me two hours to get here by broom, and it will be the same on the way out. Now," His mouth twisted into that infamous smirk again. "Front or back?"

"What?" Hermione asked stupidly.

"Ugh, Granger. Seriously," he rolled his eyes and sat on his broom. "Never mind. You look so ill that if you sat behind me, I do believe you wouldn't be able to hold yourself upright. You'll sit in front of me." He decided. "Come here," He held his arms out to her. She still didn't move. "Come on, Granger, unless you'd rather stay here?"

She knew she could trust him, but the whole situation seemed so odd. Of all the people to rescue her, Draco Malfoy; Prince of Slytherin, her childhood nemesis, her number one tormentor, was here to take her home. Ironic, really. The dragon was supposed to keep the Princess in the castle; not help her to freedom.

She finally stepped toward him and took his hand. It felt so warm surrounding hers, and for a moment, she relished in the much needed human contact. She gingerly settled herself onto the broom in between his thighs, and he wordlessly wrapped his own cloak around her shoulders and pulled her tighter against his chest.

"Ready?" He asked, and she could feel his breath against her ear.

"Yes," she whispered back, and closed her eyes as he lifted off of the floor and aimed a spell at the window, turning the glass into what looked to be some sort of liquid or gel, but as they passed through it, she didn't feel a thing.

Soon they were soaring through the night sky. The air was chilly against her face, but Hermione didn't care; she was too happy to finally be free to care about such trivial things. She was finally able to relax, and slowly her exhaustion took over, and she found herself drifting off. Malfoy must have noticed too, because he coaxed her to relax further back into him, and tightened his hold around her waist. This time when Hermione slept, it was a blissful, dreamless sleep.

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A/N:

Ok, so that was Chapter 1. The next chapter will be up soon, and just a warning, it won't be very long, and it's kind of a filler, so I'm thinking about posting Chapter 3 at the same time…

Hey, I do have a question… On either Hawthorn and Vine, or Granger Enchanted, they say that you're not allowed to say "panties", because it's slang. Is it really? I'm from Canada, and we say panties for girls, and underwear for boys. (Sometimes when my husband wears briefs I tease him and call them panties, and he says, "Don't call them panties!" in a whiney voice…) But anyway… I'm just wondering why it's not allowed?