A/N: Nothing belongs to me. Not even Rowan. *wails*

My apologies if this is choppy or not up to the mark in any way. I've written something after ages.

The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway caught the raven-haired Muggle-born's attention. As the sound grew louder, her captor came into view.

"How are you feeling today, darling?" Malfoy asked, a smirk creeping on his face. "I hope the dungeons aren't too cold for you."

Rowan narrowed her eyes at the infamous blond, wishing her hands weren't chained to the wall. The candle resting in the far corner of the cell would have passed through the bars easily, and though it wouldn't have damaged the infuriating man, chucking it at him would have certainly made her feel better.

Malfoy's smirk widened as if he had read her thoughts.

"Your violent tendencies shall get you nowhere, my lady," he informed her in a polite tone, though the sneer on his face continued to mock her. "If you really do want to get out of here, you will have to finish Il Dragone."

"If you think you can force me to do as you please, then you are wrong," the captive author spat back at the young Malfoy.

"Oh, can't I?" the young Malfoy shot back, his smirk widening.

With a flick of his wand, the locking spells on the gate of the cell came undone. As the gate swung open and Malfoy walked in, Rowan's eyes widened. The blond was more than aware of her desire for him. They had come very close to sleeping once. Today, it seemed, he was going to use her weakness for blonds against her.

"That dear caught in the headlight look really suits you," he remarked, smirking smugly at her.

Stopping a few inches away from her, he ran his fingers down the side of her face. As her eyes fluttered shut, his gaze dropped to her lips. They were parted slightly, inviting him to taste the forbidden. He could steal a kiss or two. It would cause him no harm as long as his father did not get to know.

Giving into temptation, he dipped his head, bringing his lips down on hers. Greenleaf froze for a few seconds before responding. To say that she was brilliant at kissing would be an understatement. No witch had kissed him as nicely as this Muggle-born author had. She teased his lips with her teeth, her tongue exploring his mouth, sending shivers down his spine.

The voice in his head that had been reminding him of his objective all this while, however, could be not ignored anymore and he broke away from her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded with desire and dazed. He decided to strike while the iron was hot.

"Will you finish the story?" he asked her, his voice husky.

She nodded dumbly before pulling him back for another kiss. He hadn't had such a good day in ages.

Thank you, Kim, Starlit, and Rowan for your help and feedback. ^_^

Readers, you know what to do. *hint, hint*