* How's Your Favorite Muggle? * (pepper__impps) wrote,
* How's Your Favorite Muggle? *
pepper__impps

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Damn U

He allowed his eyes to slip from hers and rest upon the gentle swell of her breasts as they quivered against the bodice of her gown. “Damn it, Granger,” he growled huskily, pressing the hardness of his staff against her.

“I’m letting a filthy Mudblood get the best of me -- ”


*******


Poor little Mudblood.”

Hermione sucked in her breath sharply, clutching the cold porcelain. Draco loomed sinisterly in the mirror like a ghost over her right shoulder. His thin lips curled in a bemused snarl as he stepped out from the shadow of the broken stall. His footfalls struck the floor with a hollow clap! as he slowly drew closer. He spoke again, his words nasty and almost sing-song.

“Crying in the toilets with no one to love her.”

Hermione stiffened, glaring at his reflection, her eyes bloodshot. “Go to hell.”

He uttered a sharp, piercing laugh. “Oh, Granger! What a foul little mouth you have.” His breath was hot on her shoulder, his body pressing her into the sink. “Perhaps I could make better use of that dirty little tongue of yours.”

“You disgust me.” Her voice was calm and strong. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last wizard on Earth. I’d rather die first.”

She saw his eyes narrow to dangerous slits, the powerful muscles in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth. “That can be arranged, Granger.”

“You haven’t the balls, Malfoy.”

He snapped her around with dizzying speed and in two quick steps, crushed her against the wall. Her breath escaped her like a startled bird. Her right fist shot out towards his face and he caught it reflexively in his large palm and twisted her arm behind her back, leaning heavily upon her.

He winked.

Her left hand flew up and he smoothly snagged her wrist, stretching it taunt and tight above her. “I could go all day long, Granger,” he chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement.

She suddenly jerked her knee, nearly catching Draco in the tender area of his groin. He quickly pushed off her, never releasing his steely grip, and kicked at the foot she still had on the ground, knocking her off balance. Violently, he yanked her upright and slammed himself between her legs.

“Fits like a glove.”

Her lungs burned as she managed the quick puffs of air that broke the eerie silence. “You’ve put a spell on this room,” she finally said quietly, as if to herself. “That’s why there’s no Myrtle.”

“You mean that ridiculous, sobbing ghost?” Draco snorted. “I don’t understand why you'd come running in here with that girl lurking about. But yes; I’ve banished her so that you and I can have a word or two, seeing as how you so rudely cut short our last conversation...”

He allowed his eyes to slip from hers and rest upon the gentle swell of her breasts as they quivered against the bodice of her gown. “Damn it, Granger,” he growled huskily, pressing the hardness of his staff against her.

“I’m letting a filthy Mudblood get the best of me -- ”

His mouth came down on hers in a blinding punch, crushing the soft flesh of her lips into her teeth. Hermione moaned in pain and struggled against his binding hands. The horrifying taste of copper flooded her senses. Suddenly, Draco wrenched himself away, his breath ragged, his entire body heaving.

His eyes came into focus on the vicious cut he inflicted. “You’re bleeding,” he murmured softly in awe, releasing the arm he’d pinned behind her back and bringing his hand to her face. She flinched as Draco carefully brushed the pad of his thumb over her bruised lip. He uncurled his left hand from her wrist and cupped her face.

“It’ll only hurt if you want it to,” he warned in a trembling voice and took her again with a gentle force. She gasped for lack of air and he plundered her mouth with his tongue, hot and sweeping and filling her throat. A slow, steady heat began to build between her legs as he was kneading her with his erection, his body guiding hers into a lusty rock. She felt herself getting slick.

Wet.

*What the hell was he doing to her?!*

Hermione,” he mumbled thickly, pulling back. His eyes were heavy and lidded.

She spat in his face with sudden, stunning malice. He barely had time to clear the fog around his head as she snapped his hand from her face and bolted for the door, ringlets of honey brown locks floating behind her.

“This is not over, Granger,” he growled softly to himself, wiping her saliva from his cheek, his eyes burning.

“Not until I say so.”

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