DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I would probably pee my pants. But alas, my pants are dry.

Chapter 9: The Most Dangerous Game

The sound of a kiss is much softer than that of a cannon – but its echo lasts a great deal longer. – Anonymous

Hermione Granger glared at the pile of books left on the floor for her to find when she woke up the next morning; there was something ominous about their presence in her prison that made her feel like she was going to go crazy. The dark colored books were like a scar on the décor of the room, and Hermione was sure that if she had to continue reading them they would put a dark scar on her soul.

But she wanted to know more about what was in the books, the spells and potions that would only hurt the ones they were directed at. They were exceedingly simple incantations and it surprised Hermione somewhat, considering the harm they could do. She had quickly found the spell Voldemort had used on Malfoy, a simple one worded curse that caused the victim to have seizures and was potentially fatal if used for too long. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. There were spells that caused bones to snap like twigs, ones that turned organs into mush, made one feel as if they were drowning. There were potions that would stop the heart, make appendages fall off, permanently paralyze, and close one's throat in less than ten seconds.

It scared her to know that she wanted to know more about dark magic. In the long hours that had passed in Malfoy's library in tense silence, she had become thoroughly engrossed in those books, learning the terrible yet wonderful things that magic could do. She was fascinated that someone had come up with these spells… what would possess anyone to want to do harm to others? Hermione had to admit that on occasion, she wanted to hurt some people, but never so much as to make them die or to perform magic that was so horrible it would earn a sentence in Azkaban.

She had looked up at Malfoy, who had still been playing Muggle chess of all things, wondering if he had ever performed any of the spells she was reading about. Had he made any of those potions to earn the Dark Mark that she could see on his left arm, partially hidden by his rolled up sleeves? She had shuddered as she looked at the mark, a chill coming over her body when she noticed that the black snake looked like it was wiggling. Then she glanced at her own arm, trying to imagine that same mark on her skin. Would she really have to get one? She knew that it was dark magic that could never be undone.

Malfoy must have noticed her eyes locked on the sizeable smear on his skin, for he immediately pulled down his sleeves and snapped, "Mind your business, Mudblood."

"I was merely wondering, Ferret," Hermione replied just as cruelly, "how you managed to get that thing on your arm. Isn't it considered a mark of honor for doing something brave, like killing helpless people? Pray tell me how, when you couldn't even manage to kill the headmaster, did you get it? Money? Sexual favors for Volde-"

"Silencio!" The spell hit her like a brick. Her vocal cords were effectively cut off and she couldn't finish her insult, which she had to say was a very good one at that. Hermione could only cross her arms and glare at the bastard who had rendered her speechless. Malfoy, unaffected by what Hermione hoped to be a deathly glare, went back to his chess board. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but only a raspy sound came out, followed by a loud gush of air.

The raspy noise was rather annoying, so Hermione continued doing it for a few moments, making it obvious that she wasn't just trying to clear her throat. The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched, but that was the sign of recognition she received from him. Smarmy bastard! Couldn't he see that it was worse than torture to not have her voice?

Obviously, he did. And he was quite enjoying her suffering as he sat by, perfectly able to speak, playing his game. A devious smirk made its way onto her face as she got up from her spot and walked to where the chess board was sitting. Malfoy looked up, appearing a bit startled at her suddenly being so close to him. Hermione smiled and gestured to her throat before moving her hand like a mouth.

Malfoy laughed – or what Hermione could only assume was one – out loud, exclaiming, "Not a chance, Granger!"

She expected that. Shrugging, Hermione gave him a look that she hoped conveyed a "you asked for it" attitude before moving her hands in a rapid motion over the board, effectively knocking all the pieces onto the floor.

It was almost a shame to ruin the game he was playing against himself, but not really. The hilarity of the look on Malfoy's face as it turned a girly pink color, his jaw tightening and teeth showing just a little, made Hermione burst out into a silent laugh, the croaky noise filling her ears as she tried to remain upright. The next instant her hysterical laughter filled the room; Malfoy must have reversed the spell he so sanguinely cast at her minutes earlier.

She was still laughing loudly as Malfoy lunged at her, causing her to screech and run away. Through the library she ran, cackling wildly, around bookcases and chairs and tables while Malfoy chased her, up the stairs and around the balcony with him on her heels. Taking the stairs back down two at a time, Hermione made for the door of the place, grabbing the knob and yanking on it. However, instead of it opening and allowing Hermione to escape, the door remained firmly closed, nearly yanking Hermione's arm off in the process. Swearing at the searing pain that suddenly filled her arm, Hermione clutched at her shoulder as she whirled on her foot, coming face to face with the Slytherin Prince himself.

"Thought you could get away with it, didn't you Mudblood?" he hissed, pushing Hermione rather violently against the door. His hands clutched at her upper arms in a way that she was sure would leave bruises, holding her in place even though she tried to wiggle her way away from him. She pushed her hands against his chest as hard as she could, but it was as useless as trying to push a brick wall out of the way. Malfoy seemed to effortlessly take hold of her wrists and pin those at her sides. Hermione struggled violently, though she knew her efforts were fruitless when Malfoy smashed her entire body against the door with his.

"Answer me!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the library.

Hermione involuntarily flinched against the volume of his words. "Yes," she said matter-of-factly, "And I would have too, had you not insisted on keeping me locked up like an animal."

"But you are an animal," Malfoy drawled, "and a rare one at that. You are an animal of the Mudblood variety that thinks it is a Pureblood. We have to keep you locked up for the safety of not only yourself, but the rest of society as well. Do you understand? No, of course you don't. Your brain is too muddled with that dirty blood of yours."

An animal? Wow, real original Malfoy. "Well I'd rather be a Mudblood and die a horrible death than be a self-centered ignoramus who thinks he is God's gift to the Earth because of his inbred bloodline!" Nice. Hermione was impressed with herself.

"I'll have you know, Granger, that my father and my mother are in no way related. Don't be jealous just because I deserve to have magical powers, unlike you."

Hermione snorted and glared up at him. "You don't deserve magic any more than a sock does! You got yours because your parents are magical. I got mine because I'm special."

"Yea," Malfoy retorted, "special ed."

"If anyone is retarded, Malfoy, it is you. One would think you would've realized it by now; how many fingers and toes are you these days?"

"You're such a waste of magical power, Granger!"

"Yes, well you're a waste of manhood!"

"Take that back, Mudblood!"

"You take it back, Ferret!"

"No you stupid bitch!"

"Yes you man whore!"

Hermione and Malfoy glared at each other for an indeterminable amount of time, and then Malfoy said, "Well?"

"Well what?" Hermione snapped.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, one going higher than the other in a comical way. "Someone owes me an apology."

Hermione mimicked his facial movements. He would get an apology from her when bubble gum fell from the sky. "Come closer," she said quietly. A triumphant smirk plastered his face as he obliged. Once his ear was close to her mouth, Hermione whispered, "Kiss my ass, Draco Malfoy."

His head jerked back quickly and he looked very angry. Once again his face took on the pink color of a baby girls blanket and Hermione had to stifle a laugh. Now look who was speechless! She smiled.

Suddenly his mouth was very near to her own ear, his breathing hot against her ear and neck; making her want to shiver in a very unladylike way. She resisted the urge by biting the inside of her cheeks. "Bend over and I will," Malfoy whispered huskily, "I'll kiss any place you want."

Hermione froze, horrified, as Malfoy pulled away to look at her, smirking again. And then it was his turn to laugh like a madman at Hermione's expense.

Then she realized something. He was bluffing. Draco Malfoy thought he had the situation in his corner because he didn't think she knew he was lying right through his teeth. "Alright, then," she said in a voice much unlike her own, "kiss me."

Malfoy's laugh stopped abruptly and he looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?" he half whispered, his grip tightening on her wrists in an almost painful way.

"You heard me," Hermione said. Then dropping her voice to a whisper, "Kiss me; that is, if you're man enough to do it."

No, he defiantly wouldn't kiss her, a Mudblood. There was no way… he wouldn't bring himself to that level. Although, she wondered if he knew that she was completely bluffing herself.

This was turning into a potentially bad situation.

Malfoy's eyes changed. She couldn't quite figure out why, but when she saw the corners of his mouth rise, she knew that he knew she was lying. "As you wish, madam," he murmured with a fake French accent.

He dropped her wrists in favor of her waist as suddenly his mouth was coming towards hers, and fast. Instinctively, Hermione shut her eyes in lieu of seeing Malfoy's face in such a close proximity. Hermione pushed her hands against his chest, trying to get the creep away from her.

When his lips first grazed hers, it hadn't been what she expected. Well hell, she didn't know what she expected. Cold, unfeeling, rough? She had never pictured herself kissing Malfoy of all people; it wasn't as if she went around all day wondering what it would be like to kiss the rudest boy she had ever known. Nevertheless, he surprised her with the gentleness of it, the warmth of his lips… like he was actually a human.

And God smite her down, she kissed him back. Of course it was only because she didn't want him to win she was sure. But… was that her she heard sigh when Malfoy put his tongue – his tongue – in her mouth? Or whimper when he bit her bottom lip and sucked on it? Were those her fingers running through Malfoy's amazingly soft hair? Or even her mouth as she left love bites on his neck?

Maybe, but she didn't think so. It couldn't have because she would rather die, obviously.

As suddenly as Malfoy's assault began, it ended. He stepped away from her, wiping his mouth as if to rid it of her germs, and Hermione felt a peculiar sensation coarse through her veins. Was it disappointment? Anger? Desire? Relief, she finally decided, it was relief that he stopped trying to strangle her with his mouth; because for some reason she was panting like a… well, like an animal.

Though, she noted with a hint of smugness, Malfoy was panting too.

Soon after that, Malfoy had proclaimed that it was bedtime for the Mudblood – even though she knew it was still the morning – and poked that damned wand of his into her back once again, leading her to her room. Then he shut the door in her face without any more explanation.

And Hermione went to sleep, only to wake up to find those blasted books burning a dark hole into her vision.

XXXXX

A week had passed. One goddamned week in which Draco Malfoy nearly went crazy. Or maybe he was crazy. Hell, he didn't know anymore. One thing was for certain; he would defiantly have to have been off his rocker to place his mouth – or his body for that matter – anywhere near Granger. Just the thought made him vomit a little bit in his mouth.

But the evidence was staring him in the face. The purplish red marks on his neck stood out horribly as he looked at them in the mirror. They had faded only a little since Granger had so rudely given them to him, and the resulting looks from his comrades, and his own father for crying out loud, made him sick to his stomach. He knew that they knew they were from Granger, because the only other woman in the house at the time was his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.

He'd kill them all, the bastards.

He couldn't exactly pinpoint why he had actually kissed Granger when she dared him to. He knew she was bluffing because he had been too. He knew that she didn't want to kiss him anymore than he wanted to kiss her. And yet he did. And holy Merlin, he had gotten into it. Just thinking about the way her lips felt... ugh.

She was a Mudblood. She wasn't supposed to be good at anything, let alone kissing. But she was horrible. Yes, Granger was not good at anything, except for maybe being a slave or something. And kissing. Oh, holy Jesus, kill him now! He didn't know what he expected when he kissed her. Maybe that she would taste like dirt, which by all means she should have. Maybe that she would have pushed him away and slapped his face. Maybe that she would have bitten his tongue or something. Anything, anything to push him away from her luscious lips that tasted like cotton candy.

Dirt flavored cotton candy, he reminded himself. He licked his lips and could still taste it.

Shit.

He stared at his reflection for a few more moments, debating on whether to drown himself in the sink.

Maybe it was because she was such a bitch and needed to be knocked off her high horse. She was not the only one in this hell; she was not the only one that was going through these tribulations. She was not immune to the things that could happen lest she let her guard down in front of the wrong person.

Yes. That was it. He was teaching her a lesson.

End of story.

But that didn't explain why he was avoiding her like the plague. Every single night he crept into her room with another pile of books about dark magic, making the pile on the floor beside her bed even larger – and knocking a few off the neat stacks for good measure – before creeping out again.

That way, he could still do his job of both teaching Granger to become a Death Eater all while helping her learn how to undermine Voldemort so they could kill him – without ever actually having to come into direct contact with her.

Whenever he walked by her room on his way to do this or that, he always stopped to press his ear on the door to see if he could hear something. He never did hear a peep, but once he thought he heard her giggle and say, "Oh, Hermione, you sure showed him!"

Draco was beginning to think that Hermione Granger was going nuts.

Then again, he was the one that was eavesdropping on her and breaking into her room in the middle of the night. But… but she was just so damned annoying! Every single thing that spewed from her unclean mouth was insolent and stubborn and usually an insult! It was as if Granger thought she was someone like him, a pureblood with every right to say whatever the hell he wanted because his blood allowed him that privilege. Surely it was in everyone's best interests for him to stay away from her when all he really wanted to do was shove her in a hole and leave her there.

Draco Malfoy was in no way afraid of his prisoner. Afterall, she didn't even have a wand. She was harmless. Yes, he thought, as harmless as a lioness on the prowl. Completely harmless.

And that nicely explained why she tried to eat his neck.

He liked to think that he got the better of her in that instant… he knew he caught her off guard. Maybe it showed that for all her struggling – which he hazily remembered there being little of – he was still more powerful than her, that she would have to do what he wanted and like it while she did it.

Wow. That sounded dirty. Disgusting!

Draco forced himself away from the mirror, violently rubbing his neck in a vain attempt to rid it of the sudden tingly sensation, making a face. He had brooded over the kiss that lasted by all his calculations less than a minute for a week. Seven fucking days. He had hidden – no, stealthily avoided – Granger for seven days. He let her think she was the cleverer one for seven days.

Maybe it was time for Granger to learn how to use those spells she was learning about.

Then they would see who the smarter and more cunning person was.

Maybe.

XXXXX

A/N: Whew! It has been a long time! ): My apologies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I know I enjoyed writing it! I was itching to get a little Draco/Hermione action in this story, and having a little competition of wills seemed like the way to go about it. (:

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