Chapter Ten                          

Cruel Intentions





 
Hermione, Ron, and, Harry did not meet up until dinner that night.  Harry had searched high and low for Ron.  He had no luck whatsoever. And Hermione, who had left Snape's office ten minutes before her Astronomy class ended, ran straight up to Professor Sinistra's class with a note from Snape explaining her absence from class.  When Hermione handed Sinistra the note she could not help but notice that her absence had somewhat disturbed the Professor quite a bit.

"Miss Granger," she said after placing the note gently on her desk.  "I expect a lot from you.  It may seem unfair for me to say so, but you are at the top of the class and I expect you to remain there.  If Professor Snape has important matters to discuss with you, do so, but within your own time, and please don't hesitate to inform him that your studies do come first. I will not allow you to run his errands while your textbooks await here unopened."

Hermione did not know what to say.  She stood flabbergasted and ashamed before her Astronomy teacher.  She definitely did not expect to be lectured by her, especially after a note was handed in.  She always felt intimidated by Isabella, so this made it all the more difficult for her to swallow it all in.

"I don't want to see this happening again, Miss Granger.  Is that understood?"

Hermione nodded wide-eyed before leaving. 'What the hell was that all about?' she thought.  That was the cruelest thing her Professor has ever said to her.  Hermione could not help but think it was not because she had missed class earlier.

Hermione went down to the Great Hall to meet up with Harry and Ron.  When Harry saw her he nearly jumped over the table to hug her down.  She noticed that Ron was not there yet.  "Where the hell have you been?  I thought something had happened to you."  Hermione smiled at the smiling Harry and was moved by her friend's heartfelt concern for her.

"Oh, Harry, I'm fine.  I just had a bit of running around to do.  And I had to go up and explain to Sinistra why I missed class today."

"So why did you?"

"Oh, well I was… trying to explain to Professor McGonagall and Snape that I couldn't make it to this detention we had tonight because I had counseling with a few students scheduled from last week," she lied.

"Yeah, I heard about the fight," he said anxiously.  "What happened and where the hell is Ron?"

Hermione's face changed quickly when Harry said this.  "What do you mean?"

"'Mione, I've been looking for him all day after I heard about the fight.  I can't find him anywhere and no one else has seen him."

"Did you go up to the common room?" she asked before Harry nodded.  "Your dormitory?" she asked as he nodded again.  "The restrooms, the kitchen, McGonagall's office, the field, chess club, the tower, Hagrid's, staff room, Harry, did you check all those?"

Harry stared at her disbelievingly, as he nodded each time.  She was about to say library, but then she already knew the answer to that.

"We need to find him.  Something could've happened to him," she said worriedly.  Before Harry could agree, Ron had shown up suddenly.  He pulled out the chair between Parvati and Harry and sat down across from Hermione with an odd smile pasted across his face.

Everyone remained silent as they waited for him to reveal where he had disappeared to, but Ron was just as quiet. 

Hermione looked strangely at him and wondered what the hell he was doing.  She realized that he was acting very peculiar.  "Ron?" she asked.

The corner of Ron's lip rose slightly, increasing the peculiarity of his smile.  He stared at her with such disenchanted eyes.  

"Ron, I'm really worried about you.  Where have you been?  Harry's been looking all over for you."

"Harry?  What about you, 'Mione?  Were you looking for me?" he said unsteadily.

"Oh! Well, see, I just found out that you were missing," she said guiltily.

"Well, I'm fine, Hermione," he said drunkenly.  "I got lost in one of those bloody rooms in the castle, where I met this one broad," he burped, "in there who wanted to talk to me." 

Hermione noticed he was trying hard not to drag the words that came out of his liquor-stunk lips.  "She said she wanted to see my wand collection," he half stammered and half laughed.  "Whatever the hell that meant," he said, his head lolling about his shoulders.  "I think someone forgot to tell her, we're only allowed to have one," he whispered seriously.

Hermione got up instantly and collared Ron by the cloak.  "Get out!  Now!" she spat, pushed him back.  She stormed out of the Great Hall and waited outside impatiently for the straggling Ron to arrive, where she would kick his arse all the way back to the common room before a Professor found him and decided an even worse fate for him.

When Ron finally arrived outside, he noticed that Hermione was not there.  She had already walked ahead towards the common room.  She expected him to follow after her.  And Ron, after a few trips and bumps (thank Godric no one had seen him) managed to arrive there safely, though he was held up outside when he could not quite figure out what the password was.

It was Looking Glass.

"Liquor Glass," said Ron to the portrait as he reminisced of the previous hours. 

The fat lady shook her head.  She was beginning to get suspicious of the boy's peculiar behavior.

"Is it Knicker Rash then?" he asked with a despicable grin. 

The fat lady shook her head again.

"Oh, could you just let me in?" he pleaded.  "I mean, you know who I am.  It's me, Don." 

Ron found himself exchanging disappointing glances with the Fat Lady.  She found his behavior appalling unexpected and was intent on not letting him in unless he gave the proper pass word.

Ron realized this before he tried a different technique.

"Did anyone ever tell you, Valentina, how good you look in that dress?"

The fat lady arched her long brow dramatically at Ron for his obvious attempts to woo his way into the Common Room. 

"No, Mr. Weasley and my name is not Valentina."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"The password, Mr. Weasley, or I will inform the Deputy Mistress of your intrusion.

"Fine then," he snapped.  "Hooking Stash" he said with a fervent nod.

"No, no, no, it's Cooking Glass or Looking Pass.  Looking Glass, no, Booking Mass, Looking Cooking…"

The fat lady in the portrait looked disgustedly at him before letting him in.  She had caught the password amongst the others.  

"Tut, tut, tut," she said with a wave of her finger.  She faintly heard the Redhead mumbling before entering.

"Tut this," he said with a quick flip of his finger. But when he stepped into the hole, he was knocked back out with a forceful punch from Hermione, who had heard his despicable attempts to get in.

"Get in!" she said stepping over him and picking him up by the collar.

Ron snapped out of his drunken state quickly.

"Thought that would do the trick," she spat viciously.  "What the hell do you think your doing?  Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber, you go and do something like this," she said, slapping him across the head.  What the hell were you thinking, Ron?  We have detention in an hour and look at you?  LOOK AT YOU!" she scolded.

He would not say anything and this pissed her off even more.  Hermione stared at the drunken teenager before her that she believed had changed so much since she first met him, and yet in his own way, has not changed at all.

His hair, now an accented red, highlighted naturally from the sun and his russet freckles, mapped out across his sculptured face was an asset to his illustrious features.  Ron's lips, especially when he smiled, Hermione thought, were the most beautiful part of his face: A buxom pair of flesh filled skin and as rich as the hair on his head. 

Broad-shouldered and rugged, Ron had developed, within the past couple of years, into his sylphlike physique. He preferred to wear his slacks low just to tug below his hips.  Hermione remembered when she used to relish the image of him running around his yard without a shirt, revealing his sculptured abs and vaulted belly.  She thought he was one of the sexiest guys in school: athletic, popular, not a complete idiot (except in times like these), kind, hilarious, and singular at times, yet no one bothered to get his attention, for it was no secret where the Redhead's heart really lied: in the palms of a simple girl, who had given up on their relationship.

Hermione felt sorry for Ron.  She could not help but feel that it was her fault this had all started.  She saw that her reprimand had truly gotten through to him.  She sat him down in an armchair and brushed the stray strands out of his eyes. 

Ron immediately closed his eyes at the instant touch of her fingers against his face.  His heart fluttered and hopeful memories of them together rushed back with a vengeance.  He wanted to stay in that moment forever, for he knew he could not withstand another moment without her.

"Hermione," he whispered with his eyes gently shut.  He leaned is head back against the armchair and let her work her fingers across his face.

She felt her heart churn as she was reminded of her cruel intentions. She only wanted him to feel better, yet she knew she was only making things worse.  She realized exactly what it did to him; to touch him so fervently.  It gave him false hope, and brought back everything she had worked so hard to get rid of and forget.  But as much as she denied feeling anything for Ron other than companionship, she could not deny that she enjoyed what she was doing to him.  It made her feel just as good as it did him. 

She continued to trail her fingers along his face, dotting his freckles like she used to when he would lie on her lap.

Ron opened his eyes slowly and looked longingly into hers.  With a silent plea for more touch, more skin, and for more of her, he ran his fingers along the side of her arm.  He wanted to taste the tips of the fingers running freely across his face, when it should be flanked between his lips.

He continued to trail his fingers across her shoulders and slipped one beneath the flap of her robes.  

Hermione felt it slip off her shoulders.  She battled within herself to stop him before he worked his own brand of magic on her.  His eyes never left hers, but she watched his sneaky little fingers work its way quickly yet subtly into her robes like they used to. 

He gently pulled her closer to him.  She smelled his scent of liquor mixed with his cologne and a hint of sweat. 

Ron pulled the rest of her cloak off and unbuttoned her blouse down to its last fasten before letting her cotton attire slip gracefully off her shoulders.

She made the mistake of closing her eyes, and at that very moment, she indulged in the very sensuality of his touch. 

Memories of a certain night came back to her.  She felt long dexterous fingers exploring her body now.  They were long, thin, and lithe, and running without permission down her bare chest and between her breasts.  She moaned out loud and was surprised at the effect such little yet overpowering tools, such as these fingers could do to her. 

Her eyes shut and her moan more detailed, Hermione looked up and saw Snape.

She gasped and pulled away from Ron immediately. She quickly buttoned her blouse up and pulled her robe back on. Ron looked disappointedly away without protest. She stood up and told him to go up and take a shower before detention, and walked out without looking back.

She went down to see Snape.

Hermione forced herself to a clear mind as she traversed the halls on her way down to Snape's dungeons.  Her cluttered mind rove wildly about, and as hard as she tried to remain calm, she failed miserably.  How could she be so stupid as to let that happen, she thought.  

Hermione knew that Snape would not be at his classroom when she arrived, but she decided she was going to wait there for him until dinner was over.  That would be in about a half an hour.  She figured that it would give her enough time to come up with an excuse for Snape as to why she missed dinner and went straight to his dungeons so early.  Hopefully she will have a few minutes alone with him before everyone else arrived for detention.  She did not know why she wanted to see him, let alone what she was going to say.  All she knew was that she needed to be around him for everything else to make sense.

When Hermione arrived at the dungeons, her heart leapt when she saw the light on. She figured Snape had come back early after all and she was glad.  Hermione started to panic when she realized she did not know what she was going to say to him.

Before long, Hermione decided that she would just walk in and say whatever came to mind.  She only hoped that she would not do what she usually did when in such situations: she would stare speechless.  

Hermione was surprised when she walked in to see a deviously grinning Malfoy, leaning against the dungeon walls.  He was waiting for her… all alone… in a Snape-less dungeon.

Hermione stared apprehensively at Malfoy as she quickly pondered on his reasons for being down at Snape's dungeons all by himself.   

The look of apprehension on Hermione's face gave Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her thrown off guard from her own game.  He knew that she was up to something.  He never doubted that she was constantly forming plans and plotting devious schemes against him and his father's work.  His arms folded across his chest, and his hair, unkempt as if he had been running his fingers through it, Malfoy stood up straight and motioned for Hermione to sit down.

She remained standing beneath the doorframe as suspicion quickly and immediately formed in her head.  "I'm not even going to ask what the hell you're doing here so early," she drawled slightly before taking a seat in the front desk.  She tried her best to pretend that he was not there.

"Well, for your information, Miss Granger, I actually came down here to apologize for my behavior earlier today.  It was my mistake and I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to frighten you," he said with a chagrined smile. 

Hermione quickly craned her neck round to get a look at Malfoy.  She was absolutely stunned at what had slipped out of his lips.  She had never heard him address her so formally and without the sardonic tone that usually went with it."

"You didn't frighten me, Malfoy, and let's drop the formalities," she snapped.  "It doesn't suit your phony smile."

Draco grinned still and looked at her with an unusual expression plastered across his flaxen face.  He bit his lip and stared at Hermione, who was still avoiding any eye contact with him.  He cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair again, and continued.  "You know, I had really hoped the two of us could get along just a bit better, seeing as how we're on the same side now, Hermione. Can call I call you Hermione?"

"No!" she spat. "And what side is that, DRACO?"

"The Dark side, Granger.  You're working for the Dark Lord aren't you?"

"Who the hell said that I was on his side. I'm only doing what Severus tells me to do, and unless you're sleeping with him too, we're not on the same side."

"And he doesn't for you?" he whispered deviously.

"What?"

"The professor.  Does he do it for you?  Is that what gets you off, Granger: bitter, old men who spends about a third of their lives skulking in the dungeons and prowling in the corridors for truants, and are about as good-looking as you are pretty?" he laughed.

"I suppose it's better than humping the bed at night, Malfoy."

Disgusted with the turn their conversation had taken, Hermione had choice but to go along with it.  She figured that Malfoy was testing her.  She could not allow herself to give in and show Draco that she was feigning all along.  She had to make him believe that she truly was different from the tame and submissive Hermione everyone perceived her as.

Draco licked his lips and looked at her with coveting eyes.  He walked up towards her without saying so much as a word or a warning.  He took her by the arm and lifted her up from the desk.

They both remained silent, and Hermione wondered what the hell he was doing.  They stared at each other, and Draco, never being this close to her, the Muggle girl he's always despised and the girl he was forbidden to associate with, felt the pit of his stomach turning.  He was filled with such unusual sensation. He never realized how much he wanted her, how different she made him feel.  Unlike many of the other useless bints he has been with, he actually felt some competition with Hermione.  

Draco felt the need to bury his face in that thick mane of hers that he had always hated and made fun of.  He wanted to trail his tongue along the nape of her neck and down her back where he would personally undress her undergarments with his teeth.

Draco pulled Hermione towards him-- his grasp still tight around her arm.  He curled the other around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Draco took the liberty of brushing himself against Hermione like some desperate frotteur.

Hermione simply stared at him, though she was cursing out loud in her head and screaming: 'What the fuck are you doing?'   She forced herself to endure the revolting display before her.  She told herself repeatedly that it was a test, just a test, and if she were to pull back, he would know that her situation with Snape was a lie.

Draco licked his lips again and in a flash, flung her robes off.  With a tight grip behind her bottom, he lifted her up and placed her on the desk behind them.  He parted her thighs whilst he thrust his knees between her legs.

He stared longingly at her as he coveted to rip the clothes off her and to spread her out across Snape's desk for him to come and find them banging each other's brains out.

Hermione, in the meantime, never broke their eye contact.  She made sure that he saw the unperturbed and unaffected look in her eyes while he fiddled with her buttons and ripped them off one by one.  He turned around and walked over to Snape's desk to grab a pair of scissors before he walked back to her.  He slipped it around the front of her bra and snipped it open.

"I always wanted to do that," he whispered softly in her ear.  He ran his hand along her sides and then beneath her blouse.  "What's the matter, Granger, am I frightening you?" he whispered. Hermione stared with masked animosity, wishing to God, any God that someone would strike the fucker down and rid her of her humiliation.

"What's to be frightened of?" she merely replied.  "You're about as intimidating now as when you were a ferret."

"Ouch!  A bit ruthless are we?  But then I suppose after one gets nailed by the most intimidating of men-- nothing really gets you down."  Draco gripped Hermione by the back of her head as he whispered into her ear.  "Don't let your sudden conversion from prodigy to a teacher's whore get away with you.  Fucking the Potions Master doesn't make you any more superior than when you were a Muggle."

"I am a Muggle, you psycho asshole."

"And you remember that," Draco spat harshly.  "Stop waltzing around the fucking school like it's your own personal playground.  Having brains, Granger doesn't change the fact that you're still a Mudblood and always will be."

"If this is your idea of turning me on, get off, because you're wasting my time and valuable energy that could be put to more use with someone else."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, please do," interrupted a familiar guttural tone that unsettled the both of them.  Hermione and Draco simultaneously turned towards the slightly opened dungeon doors, they failed to ward, and stared at the figure lingering between the gaps.

Snape had been watching them the entire time.

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