Vanish

It wasn't just the twins' audacity in pointing her toward the love potions that had her fuming. It wasn't even that she'd gotten an Exceeds Expectations on her Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL. No, Malfoy had called her a mudblood in broad daylight.

Didn't he know how dangerous that was? It was one thing when it was for a sick laugh with his awful friends at school, but here in Diagon Alley? Just last year, the ministry accused muggle-borns of stealing wands. Not to mention the number of times Mr. Weasley himself had raided Malfoy Manor.

"I'm going to go look in the back," she said to no one in particular. She'd never had trouble slipping away with the Weasleys as she was neither one of their kids nor the chosen one.

A bell chimed as she moved through the shop door and into the cool autumn air of Diagon Alley. She'd speak with him before they went off to school and his brainless bodyguards surrounded him. After all, He may be an asshole but he wasn't stupid - they'd shared too many lectures with Slytherin for her to be that naive. In fact, he'd probably gotten an Outstanding in Defense against the Dark Arts, given his miserable family's extracurriculars. A new wave of fury coursed through her.

She found the two Malfoys arguing outside Madam Malkins, and she backed into the shadows of a magazine stand sporting a beauty tabloid on Rita Skeeter's 'look, lost loves, and legacy.' Narcissa's haughty indifference had all but broken under her son's accusations, punctuated by his fingertip beneath her nose.

The sparse streets kept Hermione from getting close enough to hear, and she was considering ducking back into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to buy some extendable ears when they broke apart. Narcissa stalked inside Amanuensis Quills with Malfoy still shouting something after her. He shook his head and walked backward into a nearby dark and narrow street, his blonde hair briefly blocking the twisted sign labeled "To Knockturn Alley." Hermione hurried after him.

She followed at a distance, never taking her eyes off his broad shoulders or the back of his sleek blond head.

It wasn't the first time she'd been in Knockturn Alley. She'd explored the dark shops alone since she was eleven, and it had been stupid then, just as following Draco Malfoy was stupid now.

He turned down a winding street and then another, and her indignation turned to curiosity. She hadn't spent much time in this neighborhood and couldn't say where she was.

She lost sight of him, hurried around a thin passage, and ran into his outstretched arm.

"You following me, Granger?" He took a step towards her, all but pinning her against the wall. His smirk made her blood boil.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am following you. What the hell are you playing at calling me a mudblood in broad daylight?" But Malfoy wasn't looking at her face - he was looking up and down her body.

"Would you rather I call you a mudblood in the dark, then?"

"Excuse me?" she fumbled, shifting against the wall.

"Merlin, I don't think I've ever seen you out of your two sizes too big school robes before, Granger. You have amazing tits."

She moved to pull the neck of her shirt up, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it beside her head. She writhed beneath his grip, but he only lifted an eyebrow.

"It's one thing to call me that at school, she continued, "but in the middle of the dress shop?" Malfoy ran a long, slender finger on his free hand along her collarbone. She moved her chin away from his touch, but only exposed more of her neck for him to play with.

"It's dangerous for both of us!" She gasped. "You know the ministry has been barking at your door since your father…your father…" He moved the collar of her shirt off her shoulder to reveal her bra strap and a small triangle of the upper cup of her lacey black bra. She snapped her head back.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I'm really not," he laughed.

"Godric's tit, you are such an asshole ," she said, stomping one foot and pulling against his grip. She reached for her wand with her free hand as he traced a line down between her breasts, which against her will, began to heave with her breath.

"And another thing, you leave Harry alone this year," she said, her wand firmly in her grip, yet motionless. He trailed his finger down her belly button and to the waist of her jeans.

"He has enough to deal with without you obsessing over him."

He had one finger inside her waistband when he stopped, and the alley seemed to hold its breath. He bent his neck to the side, catching her gaze, and then lowered his face to hers until their lips nearly touched.

"Obsessing over him?" He asked, his voice low, his gray eyes boring into her own.

"Oh, now you listen," she bit back, "Yes, you're obsessed. Every chance you get, you antagonize him with some line about your daddy ."

"Daddy?" He said, breaking eye contact to look at his hand fiddling with the button of her jeans. "If that's what you want, Granger, but to be honest, I'd rather you call me Sir."

Hermione stomped her foot again in exasperation.

"What are you doing?!" She asked when he pulled her waistband down to reveal the top of her knickers.

"Granger," he drawled, "when you woke up this morning and put on a matching set of lacey black bra and knickers, who were you planning on fucking? Salazar, I hope it wasn't the Weasel. Or was it Potter? Now, that would be a sight to see."

She stopped wriggling beneath his grasp and raised her jaw. His eyes snapped back to hers.

"Would it, Draco? Would you like that? Watching from across the room as the Chosen One fucks me silly? Would that get you off?"

The smirk turned to a sneer. Hermione refused to break eye contact, even as he turned his hand around and slowly made his way beneath her knickers and into her folds. His lips parted, and she gasped.

"Granger," he said, low and soft, and with incredible precision, he began to draw slow circles around her clit, never landing. Her abdomen tightened, and her eyes fluttered. He moved his head until his breath cooled the shell of her ear.

"You are so wet. Is this all for him?"

Her chest heaved and she panted. Against all reason, she felt her cheek touch his. A small, desperate cry escaped her throat.

"Draco!" She heard someone call from a distance, as though from a dream. And just like that, he was off her. His warm fingers slipped from her knickers, crashing reality down with them. He backed up a few paces and brought a finger to his lips. As he sucked off her wetness, she saw a dark shadow on his broad, toned forearm beneath his white button-up shirt.

The outline of a skull and a serpent.

He turned to continue walking down the alley and didn't once look back at her. She buttoned her jeans and stared after him.

Malfoy had the Dark Mark - there was no question about what she saw. And if Malfoy had the dark mark, then he was officially a Death Eater.

She rubbed her legs together, desperate for an orgasm so she could think straight. She had been wearing matching undergarments every day since promising Harry his birthday present, but the day had come and gone without any fanfare, or any of him along her tongue or in her throat. Maybe if she hadn't been so damn needy, she could have kept her cool just now with Malfoy.

She looked both ways down the alley, but she heard voices just as she was about to move her hands into her knickers. Mercifully, it didn't sound like Draco, Pansy, or Narcissa, but the high-pitched myrth was anything but friendly.

She shook her head. If being called mudblood in public was dangerous, coming against a wall in Knockturn Alley was downright idiotic. She found the use of her legs beneath her throbbing thighs and started back down the alley, head hung low and spine bent, not unlike how she used to walk around Hogwarts when she felt the most alone.

What did it mean that he'd been made a Death Eater? Was he receiving assignments from Voldemort? Was it a purely symbolic gesture to show his father that Voldemort owned his first and only boy?

She wished she could talk to Harry. There had been so many times over the years that she'd kept secrets he couldn't handle, but this one almost didn't seem fair to keep to herself, given how much both boys obsessed over each other. Still, if she told him, he'd hunt Malfoy down the first day back at school and attack him in the loo.

She almost wished she didn't know. Why had she followed Malfoy, of all people, into Knockturn Alley in the first place? Stupid.