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Pirates by singerhotti24
Chapter 33 : The End: Part I
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 73

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A/N: Merry Christmas :) Hope you got what you wanted! And also, as per usual- disclaimer- I own nothing but the plot and my oc's and my corny jokes. 



Hello, ladies and gentlemen! I welcome you to the grand finale of our little games. Well, Part I of the grand finale, anyway. I was thinking that I could just write up the chapter in about 15 pages, and be done. But in reality, this did not happen. The characters demanded some more time in this adventure, and who am I to resist Draco Malfoy? ;)


Endings are a lot more complex than writing 'The End'. They have to be well thought out, otherwise, they may receive more haters than admirers. And if I were to write a sequel....... Well, in the end, I am doing my best, my dear readers, to stay true to the characters, stay true to the plot, and to stay true to you. I will answer your reviews (and I have answered most of them!), and I will do my best to continue updating, but I promise, I will FINISH this story. That being said, without further ado, your favorite literary tease presents you with:




It's been a long time. Refresh yourself if you feel it necessary. You may want to grab a snack, but you won't need it until you're done reading. You're about to eat some of the most delicious words off of this page. But you'll want more. That's when you'll have to make do with the snack.


I would, however, advise a restroom break right now. There is no intermission during Part I and you won't want to leave this screen unattended, I promise.


Now. I have but a couple requests of you.


Take a deep breath. Roll your neck. Relax


Count to three.


Close your eyes.


Open them.


Forget your mortal world, allow me to transport you.


It's nice to see you again, my dear readers :)


I re-welcome you, to the world of Pirates.


It was a stormy night at Hogwarts, the time? Just a little before midnight. Thunder shook the stones of the castle, rain pelting the windows, seemingly trying to break through. It was an odd winter this year- and it had warmed up just enough for rain. The castle, though, was teeming with life. About fifty students had lost The Game at this point, and were residing in the castle in their respective houses. However, the dormitories were empty- everyone was in the Great Hall, crowded around also watching mini displays of Fliadopia, as the Professor Snape and Headmistress McGonagall were at that very moment. The display of Fliadopia was directly in between Professor M and Snape. She glared at him over her cup of tea, eyes glittering dangerously. She was upset with him- angry. She had never been so angry in her life. However, it's not like she could kill him. Though if he were my child, I would tan him.


She sipped from her cup, appearing calm, cool, and collected, save for those eyes, still eying the man.


Severus was not lounging in his chair, no. He was leaned forward, fingers steepled, his own dark eyes focused on the game. “It's going to end soon,” he said in his clipped, quite voice.


Minerva set her teacup into the saucer with a small click. “Well, I would assume that to be obvious.” She was not below being a little snarky at this point. The wretched, pesky, young man.


Well, mostly young.


“But one can only wonder, who will win.”


Minerva shot him a look, as she stood up from the chair to pour herself some more tea. “Oh, I'm not the least bit curious, Severus.”


“No?” He asked, eyes still on The Game.


“No,” Minerva replied. “I simply like to...... let things unfold.”


Severus's eyes shot up at the jibe, mouth quirking at the corner, almost beyond notice. There she is. She would eventually forgive him for what he had done. He wasn't worried about it. “Care to make a bet?” he asked.


Minerva put down the teapot, and sat back down in the chair. “I don't make bets, Severus. It is not my business to do so.”


Snape remained silent for a stretch of thirty seconds. “Surely, you're curious. You can't not be. You have too much invested into this plan.”


“So do you,” she said sharply over her steaming cup. “We all do. I can only hope this works, that Albus was on to something.”






“No,” Snape interjected. “Pick someone, Minerva. Who's going to win?”


“I'm not playing this game with you, Severus,” she replied and put the teacup and saucer on the little stand next to her. She put her hands in her lap. “In the end, it doesn't matter who wins. What matters is that the result of this game is some kind of unification of our students. There has been a split between them too long. I walked into the Great Hall about an hour ago when The Game began showing a high action profile, and there are Hufflepuffs talking to Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and they seem to enjoy it.”


“I saw that too, Minerva, but mostly among the younger ones. The more impressionable ones.”


Minerva smoothed down her dress and walked over to the window. “You are right, of course,” she sighed. “It's the older ones.”


The cackling of the fire burning merrily in the fireplace and the rain pattering the window filled the silence. Thunder boomed up in it's place. Minerva turned back around. “I do not have favorites. I simply want this to work.”


“Liar,” Snape muttered under his breath. He stood up from the game and walked over to one of the many jars in the office and picked the one labeled 'Lemon Drops.'


“I beg your pardon,” Minerva asked. She knew what he said.


“I simply stated in one word that I think you are lying. I think you have a favorite. But I promise, Minerva, as clever as Mr. Potter is, he will not win.”


“I kno--” She shut her mouth quickly.


Severus's eyebrows raised just a hair. “What was that?”


Minerva came back and sat down in the couch. “Nothing.”


She put her eyes on the game, ignoring the sound of the jar opening. Snape put one of the yellow colored candies in his mouth, face scrunching just a little. The word disgusting came to mind. “Don't be ridi-”


But Minerva had had enough. “Why don't you sit down and watch the game with wild abandon and yell like most men do?!”


She looked up at him and was graced by what seemed like a small quirk of both corners of his lips. She was exasperated, but even so, her eyes twinkled. There he is. She pursed her lips to feign anger, just to keep up the facade. He was still in there somewhere, and regardless of what he thought he knew was best for himself, Minerva knew the man needed some kind of saving, too.


Without a word, Severus sat down, keeping the Game between them. One would want to call the silence comfortable, but one could never be to careful with such a storm battering the world outside.


The fire popped angrily. It was show time.



The steel blades shot out of the side of The Shadow, ripping into the wooden ribs of The Lioness. The assaulted ship screamed in protest. Draco held on to the railing of his own ship tightly, veins prominent in his pale arms as he held himself to the ship, not wanting to fall down. wiping the rain from his face with an cold, calculated swipe. The air was tinged with smoke from the cannons he had been firing at The Lioness from the back. The acrid taste of it burned the back of his throat. He had a silly thought to open his mouth and let the raindrops fall on his tongue for some relief. His mind violently threw the thought away. Madness. He thought. Utter madness.


Thunder rolled in the air, rain spattering, making everything slippery, darker than usual.


He couldn't lose it now, he was far too close. The shuddering stopped quickly, and his crew was shouting. “Attack! Board her, leave no survivors, save Granger!” He yelled as loud as he could, and with that, his real plan began. “She's mine,” he hissed through his teeth. Draco watched his men grab ropes and swing into the smokey space that obscured Hermione's ship, for the fight.


The captain of The Shadow did not grab one. Instead, he fingered the vial in his pocket and let the corner of his lip slip into a menacing grin.

Hermione couldn't see his ship. It annoyed her, but logic told her that the smoke would dissipate quickly. She watched from her hiding spot as Draco's men swung through the smoke onto her ship, feet crashing onto the planks with a thud.


It would only be seconds before they would realize the dead stillness on her ship, seconds before a confused look would cover their faces, seconds before--- “CHARGE!”


Out from their hiding places sprung her bodily abled crew with scowls and fury on their faces. Hermione counted three instant flashes of blue light as swords plunged into bodies. But that wasn't what she was looking for. She grabbed her rope and with the others in the sails and on her count of three, they silently swung over to The Shadow, like silent shadows themselves. Then right before their feet thudded onto the planks, they let out a yell.


The crew that remained on The Shadow instantly drew arms. No way were they going to give up their ship without a fight.


Hermione dodged what seemed to be an eager fourth year and quickly flattened herself against one of the wooden walls, eyes quickly surveying the fight, looking for that tell-tale flash of blonde.....


But then it hit her. He would never go out and fight a pawn's battle. He's probably sitting in his cabin drinking TEA that he made some poor soul make for him, the bast-- Hermione took a deep breath and knew where she had to go. It was all the way across the ship, but she could make it. Her crew was able.


She pushed off from the wall and started running, sword slashing away a deadly blade from Thaddius who didn't even have time to thank her. The wind suddenly gusted, making the rain slap her face hard. She reached up to wipe it off and tripped over a rope, slamming her to the ground. Someone stepped on her fingers. Hard. “AHH!” The sound escaped her mouth as she pulled her fingers back and got into a crouch. The people around her were absorbed in their own fight.


It was simply an accident. She flexed her fingers and continued her journey, half jogging when she came to the door.


She would have reached for the handle except for one little thing. Dark eyes stared back at her. “Move, Blaise.”


“I can't do that.”


“Don't make me fight you,” She replied, honey eyes glinting in anger, water streaming through her hair.


“Because I will.”


“I know you will,” Blaise said. “But I have strict orders--”


In a split second Hermione was upon him, a hand blade pricking his throat. “I said move,Zabini. And when I come out this door, victorious, you better be gone.”


Their faces were inches apart. The clattering and clamor all around them almost made her wince. His eyes turned.... a kind of emotion she couldn't place. “You don't want to go in there.”


Hermione pushed the blade till Blaise winced, a small stream of blood running down his dark skin. “I don't want to hurt you, Blaise. I will ask you one more time to--”


“I warned you,” He said, putting his hands up. Hermione moved the blade allowing him to go around her. “Good luck,” he said as he headed toward the fight, not even looking at her.


“I won't need it,” Hermione said over her shoulder, but he was already in the fray.


She tried to dry her hand on her soaking wet pants, but to no avail. She didn't know why she tried to wipe her hand. Was she sweating because she was nervous? Or was it just wet?


Hermione's eyes narrowed. Enough.


Her hand grasped the door handle and she yanked the door open, striding in. She slammed the door behind her.


But the room was empty.


And then, suddenly, she fell to her knees.




Pansy's ship ripped into the Shadow, much like the Shadow ripped into the Lioness. She would have sunken had she not attached her ship to this merry group. She gripped the hand rail, and braced herself for what she knew was coming.


Another rip, and the side of her boat was torn, by none other than His Majesty's ship.


The British had arrived.


But Pansy was not here for them.


“CHARGE!” She yelled, fisting her sword up into the air. She ran off the helm to grab a rope to get from her ship to Draco's ship to get to Hermione's ship, to find Draco or Hermione....... Well, her plan had a lot of holes in it this time, but she couldn't plan for everything. Especially not for this weather. The rain ran into her eyes, smearing the coal she had used to darken them. At least her lips would stay red, like the blood I'm going to spill, she added mentally.


Just as she was getting ready to swing over, a body launched into hers, a strong arm circling her waist. She screamed. It was all she could do to keep her rain-soaked body from slipping into the small abyss between the ships. She clutched to the shirt, and that's when she saw the red hair.


With a crash, their bodies landed onto the planks of The Shadow, Ron on the bottom, taking more of the fall. They landed in a tangle, her legs twined with his. The rush of heat she felt in her body only intensified when she looked up and saw the rage in his eyes. She tried to ignore it. “You fool!” She said, scrambling up from the sodden planks. “You could have gotten us killed.”


He drew his sword. “Imagine that,” he spat at her. “You killed me, already, remember? Wasn't that big of deal then.”


Pansy drew her sword. She wasn't about to be taken unawares. Not by this man. Not again. She wasn't going to look at how good his hair looked, soaked by the rain. She wasn't going to look at the muscles that were clearly defined by his wet shirt. She wasn't going to look at all. But she had to keep her eyes on him. Damn it!


He was beautiful when he was angry. “Listen, Ronald,” She rolled the 'r' and gestured her cutlass in the air in a little circle, as if she were telling a story with it. “I had to kill you, I didn't have any other choice.”


“Tell that to someone who will believe you, Parkinson. Because I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth.” The tip of his sword hit hers. But she wasn't paying attention. Not really.


There was this one lock of hair, right in the middle of his forehead. It looked ridiculous. She wanted to brush it away with her hands. Don't. Touch. It. “A lady never lies.”


He stepped closer. “You're not a lady.”


Pansy looked affronted. “Why, Ronald, what a mean thing to say.”


I should really stop calling him that, she mused to herself. Wow, his eyes just look--


“Give me one good reason not to kill you, right now, Parkinson.”


She opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her. “I'll kill you anyway. But humor me, I'd like to see what little tale you'd like to spin next.”


She couldn't hold it in. Couldn't take it anymore. Ronald Weasley talking Slytherin was just, too much. She sidestepped his sword and grabbed his collar and dragged him towards her. She walked backwards until her back hit the railing. “How about I show you one?” She said, throatily. With that, she yanked him towards her, crashing his lips down onto hers.


For once in his life, Ronald Weasley knew what to do with a woman. He put one hand in her hair, and the other on her back, pressing her to him as hard as he could. When it wasn't enough he put his hands on her waist and hauled her up, sitting her onto the railing roughly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him even closer, mouth never leaving his. He kissed her back. Took out his fury on this raven haired witch. He kissed her with all of the frustration he had. It was the best kiss he'd ever had. It was raining. It was cliché.


And then, with that realization, it become un-cliche. When she bit his lip. HARD.


Bloody hell!” He exclaimed almost dropping her. He grabbed her waist with his large hands, lifted her from the railing, and resisted the overwhelming urge to slam her down onto those planks right there and then, not caring who was watching. “What was that for?!” If he was angry a second ago, he was even more furious now.


Pansy almost withered and died. She couldn't wait to get back to the real world. To a real bed. The plans she had. “That was for making want to kiss you, Weasley, and this,” with lightning speed, she shoved him into a fight that had sprung up behind them, causing him to fend for himself, and that is to stop you from doing it again. She ran from him and to the other side of the ship, grabbed a rope, and with her running momentum, swung over and dropped onto The Lioness.


Ron barely had anytime to react to anything. He got a cut on his upper arm before getting out of the mess she had tossed him in and with all the speed he had, he ran to grab her, but he was too late.


She winked at him from the other side. He glared at her angrily; she blew him a kiss, the disappeared into the fray that seemed to be on every damn ship. He grabbed the rope when it swung back over, but by the time he landed on the Lioness, she was not to be seen.


She had bigger fish to catch.


And by bigger, she meant blonder.


And although she would never admit it, she quite liked red fish also....but dinner was later. Now, was brunch.


Hermione stayed on her hands and knees for a moment, trying to regain her senses. Her knees were numb with the force they had knocked into the planks. Once, twice the ship shook. When it was done, Hermione shakily got up to her feet, leaning back against the door to regain herself. Then she took a deep breath. “Malfoy, I know you're in here.”


No answer, but the bloodthirsty roars outside.


“This isn't a game.”


The “Au contrair” she was expecting didn't come.


“Come on, Malfoy. I won't kill you, I promise.”


“Now that, I don't believe for a second.”


Hermione's face snapped to the direction of the bed.


“Even if I were Malfoy.”


That's when she saw the hands tied to the bedpost. How she missed them the first time, she had no idea. She hurried to the side of the bed, and gasped. The blue eyes seared her.




For a moment she just stared at him. Those eyes, that face. Her heart skipped a beat. How--.....Who--... Why---?


He simply looked. And looked. Eyes roved her. “It's nice to see you, too, Lady Granger, though you seem to be a little rough for wear. I'd kiss your hand to greet you, but as you can see, I'm a little tied up at the moment.”


The emotions coursing through her were.... indescribable. Fury, confusion, he had cast her aside, but he was being nice. It was....


And instantly, Hermione snapped out of her daze. He was a human. Her feelings aside, she had to save him. She fell to her knees. “Let me help you.”


What she felt didn't matter any more. He was back, and that was her downfall. She was drawn to him like a moth was to a flame. It was almost tragic really. He told her he didn't want her. And yet....


“You really shouldn't.”


“I insist!” Hermione said, getting her hand blade out, the one she had used on Blaise. She wiped the blood on her pants with a grimace then got closer to his hands--


“Ah, ah. What did I just say.”


“You're delusional,” Hermione said with a small smile. “Of course I'm going to help you get out of here.” She didn't look at his face. Kept her focus on his hands. His beautiful hands.......


The knife bit into the rope.


“You really don't want to do that, love.”


Love. There was that tug in her brain again. She ignored it. It was probably nothing.


Hermione's smile faded a little. “Look, I'm going to help you. I won't cut you, I swear on it.”


“You swear you won't slice me with your sword?”


Hermione rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched none the less. “It's only a dagger. But I swear.”


“Don't say I didn't warn you.”


“Don't be ridiculous.” Hermione started sawing through the rope on his hands, the knife fraying the rope.


“What are you doing in here anyway? Wanting to kill Malfoy?”


“Something like that,” Hermione answered, still cutting through the thick knots.


A moment later, his hands broke free. “There,” Hermione said. “You're free to go.”


“I suppose I am, aren't I.” He shrugged the rope off his hands and looked at her, blue eyes laughing. But not the kind of laugh Hermione expected to see. What the--


Suddenly, Dommanic's skin started changing. Getting paler.


“Are you alr--”And she choked on her words.


The planes of his face were getting more angular.....and when he opened his mouth to speak, a shiver of sheer disbelief and terror ran through her entire body, rooting her to the spot like the Petrificus Totalus curse. “I warned you, Granger.”


The brown hair was taken over by a wave of blonde, the blue eyes turning to gray as she stared that them, lips turned slightly fuller, cheekbones higher, skin....paler.....


Hermione couldn't speak, her mouth wouldn't open. Not to say a single word. Her body was screaming at her to get away from there, but she couldn't move. Her brain was in utter shock. Finally, when she got a breath into her lungs, she she spluttered, “You!”


“That's right,” Draco said, walking over to the corner and grabbing a cutlass that had made it's home there. “Me.” He turned to her, pulling the sword out of the sheath. “I'm going to kill you, Granger. I'm going to bleed you then snap your pretty little neck right after you tell me where the key is.”


Hermione was still staring at him. It took her another moment to process what he said. But it didn't matter. “You were Domma--”


“Dommanic the whole time, yes,” He finished. He walked towards her, and when he was just two feet away from her he stopped. His eyebrow shot up. “You're telling me you didn't even suspect it?” Draco's eyes lit up. “You, the brightest witch of our age, couldn't see through my charade?” When Hermione didn't answer, he smirked. “I can't believe it!”


And that was when the anger started to boil in her veins. Slowly, at first. He noticed it. It was like watching a torch go up in flame. It was maddeningly beautiful. He watched her eyes spark from shock to life to anger in a second, watched the anger blush into her cheeks. Even her freckles popped out at him. His eyes dropped to her mouth that seemed even pinker and fuller than before. His hands flexed, fingers now biting into her hips. Her lips parted under his gaze. Then, words. “It was you.”


She needed him to look her in the eyes, damn it. They lingered on her lips and then lazily looked into her eyes, spearing her with their apparent nonchalance. But the fingers flexed harder. Hermione ignored them. She put her hands in between them and poked at his chest. “It was you all along! How could I have been so--”


“Stupid?” He offered up to her with a slight smirk. “It's not your fault, honestly. I'm a brilliant actor, Granger.”


She had been played. Played like a deck of cards on a Saturday night at a casino table. “React to this.” In a split second she whipped her sword out and clashed it against his. She was done. Absolutely done.


She maneuvered her sword fast as lightening, making him change positions with her. Keeping him on the defensive. With a couple slashes and cuts she had him cornered, the bed was behind her and his back was to the doorYou may be a good actor,” she said, still on the offensive, She crushed her body weight against her sword, which caused him to stumble, and in that moment she ripped the hilt from his from his hands. The cutlass clattered on the floor. “ But you're also a dead man.” Her cutlass was pointed at his throat. “Hands up, Malfoy. I'll kill you quickly.”


He was a complication that she didn't need anymore. Him and his shocked grey eyes. He had been taken unawares. But she didn't care. She didn't want to gloat. She was tired. She wanted to sleep in a real bed. She wanted to take a scalding bath in prefects bathroom and eat real food. She wanted real life. And this was lacking. She would deal with her emotions and issues later.


She narrowed her eyes at him, as he slowly put his hands up.


Suddenly, a boom of a cannon permeated the walls, and Hermione's focus was broken for a split second. But that was all he needed. Draco lunged forward, grabbing her wrist with the cutlass in one hand, and reached for her throat with the other. He smashed his body against her, the momentum crashing them onto the bed, with him on top. In a second, he had straddled her, gaining full control. He squeezed her wrist until she let out a surprised and audible gasp. “Ow!” Her fingers released the cutlass. He pressed his other hand into her throat. “A dead man, you say?”


Her other hand reached up and grabbed at his throat, fingers grasping, finding a lodge. She got his chin instead. Damn! She did what she could and pushed his face to the side, squishing up his cheek in a most unattractive fashion. He was almost amused. “Damn, it, woman!” He couldn't see, but he moved his hand from her throat, and put it on her face. She how she would like it. Hermione instantly started struggling beneath him. He put his hand on what he assumed was her cheek and pushed her face to the side into the pillow in a quick motion. A gasp of pain escaped her lips as a kink shot up her neck. She let go of his face instinctively and reached to move his hand and that's when she knew she had made a mistake.


His hand shot out and grabbed her other wrist and put her arms above her head. Hermione twisted her hands quickly and tried to get away, but he wouldn't have it. He grabbed both hands with his and locked them, this time, for good above her head.


Her legs shifted to knee him ever so pleasantly, but he was faster. In a moment, her wrists were encased by one set of curled fingers, and her pant encased upper thigh another. It was almost comical, the poor girl. “Stop struggling, Granger. I won.”


Hermione spat at him. He turned his face to the side- the spit landed on his cheek. “You didn't want to do that,” he hissed, suddenly not amused anymore.


“And why not, Malfoy?”


He leaned forward as if to whisper something in her ear, but then smeared his cheek against hers. “What you'll do to me, I will not hesitate to do to you,” he said hotly in her ear. “I will return everything, two fold, have I made myself understood?”


Hermione didn't say anything, but he took her silence as an answer. He retreated back to his position above her, so he could see her face.


“Now,” He took a leaned slightly forward, putting her on the defensive. “Anything else you'd like to add to that, love.” His hands flexed, fingers biting into her thigh.


Hermione was livid. Absolutely LIVID. “You played me,” she hissed. “You played dirty. You have NO honor. No morals. Nothing. You broke me down as a person, Malfoy, by telling me you didn't want me at the Ball. I felt worse off for that. You killed a part of me. And to think,” she laughed harshly in his face, “ that I almost thought I liked you. I just saved you five minutes ago because I liked you.”


“You fool,” he responded, “You liked my alter--”


But Hermione was too angry to stop. “You toyed with my emotions as if they were some kind of little game that your parents got your on a whim. You and your alter ego are the SAME PERSON. You think it's ok to play games inside of this game, but what's happening is all real. You--”


“Stop it,” Draco murmured.


“But you don't care! You think it's all a game, but it's not, Draco Malfoy! You--”


“Stop it,” He said, this time, louder. She was getting too close to the truth.


“DAMN YOU,” her eyes finally went ablaze as she completely, and utterly exploded, she struggled beneath him as the words escaped her mouth. “I KISSED YOU, MALFOY!”


The air around them froze. The words hung in the air, electrifying it. The words instantly flew on replay. I kissed you, Malfoy. I kissed you, Malfoy. I kissed you, Malfoy.


Their eyes were locked, she was breathing hard, he, holding his breath. They couldn't move. She had kissed him. Him. He never made that connection. And just like that, with a three word sentence, the bridge between Dommanic and Draco was burnt. Hermione had finally connected the two as truly one and the same, one was just a facet of the other. She hadn't kissed Dommanic, she had kissed him. Maybe not completely for him, but him, none the less. She had said it wish such fury that the words she said next completely floored him.


“And damn it, you wanted to kiss me back.”


His eyes were boring into hers. She couldn't read them. They were cold, grey, impassive. Scrutinizing her. She was too far gone, too angry to take back anything she said. She was also playing a dangerous game. She needed him to kiss her. Needed it badly. And as much as she wanted to say she wanted him to kiss her just so she could win the bet- she couldn't.


She wanted him to kiss her. And it scared her.


His eyes were going from one of her eyes to the other. The silence stretched on. Hermione wanted to prompt him, but knew the silence was something he needed. She felt his fingers bite harder into her thigh, sending a rush of heat through her body. She didn't move a muscle.


And then, for a split moment, as he breathed in to speak, his eyes showed a million emotions at once. Hermione couldn't read them. Not a single on of them. It left her floored. His eyes went from a light grey, to a dark one.


Then he opened his mouth to speak.


“You are comical,”

Her eyes widened in shock. Excuse me? Her mouth opened to speak, but he interrupted her.


“You really believe that, don't you.”


It wasn't a question. “You really think that I wanted to kiss you, to touch you, to seduce you--”


“Let me go.” Hermione shut her eyes. She couldn't cover her ears. She didn't want to hear this.


Granger. How could you be so foolish?”


Her heart clenched. She started wringing her hands inside of his, trying to get away. She had to get away. She couldn't play the game. She wasn't him. She couldn't do it like he could. She had to get out. Out of this wretched world.


“I don't know what's going on in your pretty little head, but you were just a game to me.”


Her eyes flew open. He was closer. He was looking straight down down at her, lips smirking, but she noticed one thing: the smirk didn't reach his eyes. He leaned closer. “You were just a game, Granger. Don't mistake it for something it wasn't. You wanted me because I made you want me.”


“Malfoy.” Hermione repeated. She couldn't listen anymore. She could feel the tears of shame burning the back of her eyes. “Let. Me. Go.”




She breathed in. Her blood running hot and cold at the same time. She wanted more than this. Needed more than this. But you can't have more than this. It would forever remain a fantasy. She watched his mouth open to say something else, something Hermione knew would just make her snap, but she interjected before he could say a word, letting herself down to the lowest level before the man who confused her, who she wanted to despise so badly, but couldn't. She closed her eyes and let the one word out.




A moment later she opened them. The smirk was gone from his face. He simply looked down at her. Without a word, he released her wrists and her thigh and rolled over and got up off the bed. She stayed, laying, and stared up at the wooden planks that made the ceiling, trying to collect herself.


For a few moments, all that could be heard was the fighting outside. A cannon went off, and just like that, Hermione turned off the emotional switch. She was here for a reason. She sat up, and looked at Draco, who was leaning against the door of the room, both cutlasses in hand.


She stood up and walked towards him. She wasn't going to cry. The bastard didn't deserve her tears. But before she could ask for her cutlass, he held it out to her.


Warily, she took it. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up one hand, effectively silencing her.


“I'm giving you a two minute head start, Granger, then I'm coming after you. I'll kill you if I can, make no mistake about it.” He paused for a second, eyes probing hers. Grey clashed with brown. “I'm not going to play anymore games with you except for this one Granger.”


He opened the door to the chaos outside. Instantly the smell of gunpowder, ocean, and rain flooded the room. He gestured for her to walk out the door. When she paused, he prompted, “Your two minutes started twenty seconds ago.”


“I'm going to win, Malfoy,” she spat at him, “just in case you were making a mistake about that.”


“Thirty-one, thirty-two.”


She couldn't take it anymore. She yanked the door handle from him and went out into the rain. When she slammed the door, Draco could have sworn it left a crack.


As soon as he was sure she was gone, he slid down the planks, and buried his face in his hands, breathing hard. His clothing was damp. Because hers were. He breathed deeply. He could smell her one him. In the air in the room. A twinge of lemon.


He set his mouth in a hard line and tried not to breath. He closed his eyes, trying to gain some shred of composure. He had almost lost it.


And you almost kissed her. Again. Draco shut the voice off with a huge mental shove. He didn't need that right now. He had to.... sort himself out. He couldn't step out there like this. He was.... distracted. He would walk out and a sword would go through him in a second, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. She was slowing him down.


It was the hardest he'd ever resisted. He was so used to letting himself have whatever he wanted. He never needed to say no. But this was a special case. Every ounce of him wanted her. Ever single molecule and atom that made his being was screaming for him to kiss her, to absolutely ravage her and her fiery eyes, and how he had said no to himself, he had no earthly idea. He just spouted the same nonsense twice and she bought it? He hadn't expected her to.


She had seduced him without even knowing she had. She had seduced him and caught him unawares. And god, did he want her.


He could still remember the feel of her beneath him, the width of her thigh, the slenderness of her wrists captured in his single hands. She had been soaked from the rain, her hair plastered around her face. Her eyelids darker from the wetness. Her white shirt had been plastered to her skin, pants tight around her legs. Thinking that those legs could be wrapped around him---


His imagination ran wild.

The things he would have done to her had the one shred of sanity he had left not shown up.


He could still fell her in his hands. With that thought, his fingers curled into fists.


Contain yourself, Draco. He stood up and punched the wooden wall, making a dent. He hissed in pain. He could feel the splinters. With anger, he grabbed his wand from under his pillow and removed them magically. He was going crazy. No doubt about it.


He blamed the game. The feverish feeling in his blood was an illness; there was nothing else that it could be. The game was messing with his entire being, his sanity. As soon as they got back into the real world, she would turn into the undesirable, annoying, know it all, bookworm of a Mudblood she always was before and he wouldn't want her. Wouldn't want to kiss her, devour her, discover her secrets, follow that one freckle on her collarbone down to...


“DAMN IT.” His fingernails bit into his palms. He stood, rigid, in the middle of the room, every muscle packed with lust, bones threatening to break themselves from the anger that was mounting inside of him. He hated himself.


He wasn't allowed to want her. Couldn't want her. It was against every fiber of his being. He had to shut it off. If he gave into the madness, he would lose himself completely.


He had to end this game.


If he kissed her......


Draco narrowed his eyes. He couldn't do this anymore. Her two minutes were up. Draco walked up to the door slowly, then wrenched it open, tearing it off the hinges completely. The rain fell on his hair, plastering it to his skin, but he didn't care. The storm matched his mood. Lightning crackled in his eyes.


“Ready or not, Granger, here I come.”

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