“And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations,” Draco Malfoy’s voice drawled from behind her and Hermione Granger spun quickly in his direction, her hands clapping over her bared chest and her eyes going wide.
“W-what?” she squeaked, her eyes wide with panic as she took in the sight of him leaning against one of the pillars in the Prefect’s bathroom. His shoulder was propped against it, his inside leg curled causally around the outer, and his stormy grey eyes were fixed on her intently.
He didn’t bother repeating himself, and he didn’t move, but the trace of his eyes over her naked upper half made Hermione swallow thickly.
“What are you doing in here, Malfoy?” she demanded, needing to regain control of the situation.
“Having my life ruined,” he informed her snidely. “Are you happy, now?”
“Excuse me for daring to use a bathroom as it was intended,” Hermione retorted, scowling at him. “But if the sight of me so ruins your life, feel free to piss off, Malfoy.”
He didn’t answer and from the way his eyes dragged down the length of her body from her loose curls all the way to the tips of her pink-painted toes, Hermione had the strangest sense that he liked what he saw.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered quietly.
“Yes, you are,” she said, though she wasn’t sure he’d intended to have her heard him. “I’m trying to bathe, Malfoy. So, get out!”
“But you’re not done yet...” he protested.
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione demanded, raising her eyebrows.
“You haven’t finished completely wrecking my life. Why would I leave now?”
“I’m not about to take anything else off if you’re in here complaining at the sight of me,” she huffed impatiently and stomped her foot for emphasis.
“Complaining?” he echoed, looking confused.
“You just said...” Hermione began hotly.
“I know what I said,” he cut her off. “But seeing as you’ve already ruined my life, you might as well complete the attack and get your hooks in even further. I’m already caught, now I might as well get to reap the spoils, as it were.”
“What are you on about, Malfoy?” Hermione demanded, and she almost let go of her boobs to plant her hands on her hips in annoyance before realising what she was doing.
“You,” he informed her, pushing away from the pillar and swaggering across the room in her direction. “You can’t just begin stripping in front of a man and not expect him to be intrigued, Granger.”
Hermione’s cheeks turned pink.
“Typically intrigued men don’t accuse me of ruining their lives,” she said, frowning at him.
“Spend a lot of time intriguing other men, do you?” he asked, coming slowly closer and beginning to loosen the Slytherin tie around his neck.
“Is that the point?” she asked.
“It is if I’m going to have to duel a collection of twats,” he shrugged.
“What?” Hermione asked, baffled. “What are you doing? Malfoy, I booked the bathroom tonight. Stop taking off your shirt!”
He ignored the command, and Hermione frowned at him when he was as bare chested as her.
“You can’t just ruin my life and not let me wallow, Granger,” he argued.
“Meaning, what?” she demanded.
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“I think you do,” Hermione said.
“You stripped in front of me, Granger,” he said quietly, coming closer until he stood just a few feet away from her. “And I’m never going to get that image out of my head.”
“Then why would you want me to continue?” she frowned.
He tipped his head to one side slowly, regarding her curiously, those intense grey eyes watching her every move.
“Because... you’re mine now,” he said slowly. “Hence, having ruined my life. My parents will never forgive me for wanting you.”
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she gulped audibly.
He looked so serious.
“Um...” Hermione said, unsure what to say and trying to figure out if he was just taking the mickey or if he was inciting so old-time magic surrounding a witch stripping in front of a wizard - knowingly or not.
“So,” Malfoy went on doggedly, his hands slowly lowering to his belt buckle. It jingled as he undid it. “You might as well go ahead and continue to strip, Granger. I’m not leaving. And I won’t rest until I’ve seen and tasted every inch of you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione demanded, scowling at him and trying to ignore her suddenly racing heart. “You can’t just...”
He cut her off, pressing his index finger to her lips and moving even closer - so close their bared torso almost brushed together. She could feel the heat of his skin pouring off him and she could see from the cast of his pointed, handsome features that he was deadly serious and that he meant every word.
“Was I unclear?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow. “You’re mine now, Granger. My witch. My bloody future. And I mean to enjoy you, no matter the consequences, or that clever bit of trickery you employed.”
“Trickery?” she scoffed. “You were the one invading on my bath time, Malfoy. I didn’t even know you were there. And I’m not your anything, so you can just forget what you’ve seen and be on your way, thank you very much.”
His lips pulled into a mean little smirk, as though he was amused by her protests; as though he relished the challenge it might be to make her agree to be his.
“Have I ever given you the impression of being the type of man who doesn’t get his way, Granger?” he asked her mildly, looking wickedly amused even as he trailed the tip of the finger he’d pressed to her lips down over her chin and then along the column of her creamy throat. “Do I seem the type to just accept not having everything and anything that I want?”
“You seem the smug, pompous, arsehole type, actually,” she informed him coldly. “So, why don’t you go and be all of those things elsewhere? I’m trying to get clean.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated. “Not until I get what I want.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.
“Which is what, exactly?”
She squeaked when he gave her his answer by wrapping his hand around the nape of her neck and pulling her to him, his lips crashing down on hers.