Contrast

Not mine, except for the plot, but that’s about it!

He always liked to point out the contrast between the two of them. The first time was in the Spring during their 7th and final year at Hogwarts. As Head Boy and Head Girl, they were required to spend a lot more time together which led to what some would call a dysfunctional friendship, but it wasn’t even really a friendship, as neither one of them actually liked the other. It was during a late night homework session when he first brought it up.

“You know Granger,” he said closing the book he was reading.

“What?” she sighed as her quill paused in mid-sentence. She had been trying to complete her Potions essay at the table in the library, sitting across from him, trying her best to finish her work. Well, it was really their work, since most of the teachers in their shared classes thought it was a good idea to partner Head Boy and Head Girl together during projects. Hermione found out that things went by much faster if she would complete all of their essays as long as he fed her a few facts every now and again.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, waiting for his latest revelation. He seemed to have quite a few of them this year, and had no qualms about sharing them with her. Most of them were about his friends, his future, his life, or her lack of the three. None of them were very serious, and had actually imparted some humor into her otherwise boring nights. And though sometimes they concerned her, she had always taken them with a grain of salt.

“It’s funny that you and I were made Heads. We make quite a contrast.” He said it with an air of nonchalance, as if he were stating this as a fact that everyone knew already.

This comment caught her interest enough to close her Potions book, set her quill down, and look expectantly at him.

“Here I am, a handsome man with my striking blond hair and penetrating gray eyes, pureblood Slytherin sex god status, able to get any girl I want, rich, with the wizarding world at my fingertips. And there you sit, dull brown hair, same dull brown eyes, Mudblood, not one guy in Hogwarts trying to get your attention unless it is for help with his homework, the epitome of the Gryffindor virgin princess, and while you may be intelligent and advanced in magic, you are still just a Mudblood and will have a hell of a time making it in the wizarding world after school.”

Hermione looked at him with indifference, quite used to being called a Mudblood these days. He used it so often in everyday conversations that it almost became an endearment to her and not the insult it was meant to be. Plus, it lacked the venom behind it that used to run rampant a few years ago.

“What’s your point Malfoy?”

“No point, just an observation.”

He opened his book and resumed reading as if he just hadn’t shared his twisted opinion with her. Hermione just continued to stare at him blankly, waiting for some sort of explanation, but was only met with his head bent over his book and the rustling of the page being turned.

Without even lifting his head he stated flatly, “If you continue to ogle me all night Granger, you will never get the essay done, and I don’t feel like getting a failing grade just because you can’t take your eyes off of me.”

Sighing once more, Hermione opened her own book and picked up her quill, and started to finish their assignment, but she couldn’t get that sharp pain in her chest to go away because she secretly feared that for once, Malfoy might be right.

* * * * *

He mentioned their contrast again when he first told her what he really thought of her.

They were once again sitting in the library at their regular table, both of them doing their separate homework this time. It was almost time for the library to close down, and they were both scrambling to finish their assignments before Madam Pince shooed them out to complete the rest of their work in their often too-noisy common rooms.

Malfoy was looking immaculate as usual, not a hair out of place and not a wrinkle to be seen anywhere on his robe that lay over the chair next to him or his Hogwarts uniform that he still wore. He looked as he had that very morning when he had come strolling into the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione sat across from him, her disheveled hair in a sloppy bun and her cheek smudged with ink. Her robe had fallen off of the back of her chair and was crumpled on the ground in an untidy heap. She had untucked her Oxford shirt from her skirt and loosened her tie, while she dangled the Mary-Janes her mother convinced her to buy this summer that had a small heal, but were quite impractical for running around a huge castle trying to get from class to class, from her feet.

Hermione had placed the final period at the end of her final sentence just as Malfoy closed the book he had been taking notes from. From past experiences, this was the time when Malfoy would have another epiphany about some aspect of his or hers, or both, of their lives. Hermione braced herself for what she knew was coming as she packed up her belongings. When she had put her last quill away and had not heard a sound come from Malfoy, she lifted her head to see him looking at her. It was the actual look on his face that made her hand freeze in mid-air as she was about to grab her bag. He wasn’t looking at her like he usually did, with the famous smirk on his face and a glint of mischief in his stormy eyes, ready at any moment to regale her with some insult or tease. This time we was observing her, studying her the way he would a new potion recipe or an Arithmancy problem, as if he didn’t know quite what to make of her. When he noticed she caught him in his inspection of her, the look of securitization was replaced with the smirk that Hermione knew all too well.

'Here it comes.' She thought

“I just thought of another contrast between us.”

He was standing now, at least a head taller than her, waiting for her to pick up her bag so he could accompany her out of the library.

“You mean besides the fact that you are pure evil and I am not?”

She started walking, while he was left still standing beside the table, somewhat shocked because she never usually commented on his interpretations before.

“No, not that.”

He had caught up with her.

“What about the fact that you are an annoying git with the ego the size of Big Ben, where as I am humble and modest?”

She was smiling now.

“No Granger, you are not even close.”

He was smirking even more now, if possible.

“I am thinking about what is acceptable and what isn’t, for me and my family and for you and your so-called friends. For instance, it is acceptable for me to be Head Boy, very acceptable. However-”

“‘However’? I didn’t know this was a formal discussion.”

“However,” he continued as if she didn’t interrupt him, “it is unacceptable for a Mudblood to be Head Girl.”

They had reached the heavy door that lead to the hallway, both of them nodding a “Goodnight” to Madam Pince.

“According to whom, Malfoy?”

He opened the door for her.

“According to me and my family. Aren’t you even listening Granger?”

She stepped into the hallway and he followed, but both of them did not separate to walk the opposite way to their common rooms. It was understood that this was a conversation that was not only to bring Malfoy’s observation to life, but to also entertain them both.

“Barely.”

“As I was saying, it is acceptable for me to get exceptional grades…”

“By way of cheating and brownnosing.”

He pretended as if he hadn’t heard her side comment. It was typical for their discussions.

“Acceptable for me to date whom I chose as long as they aren’t a Mudblood or Hufflepuff…”

“You mean it is acceptable to be a man-slut?”

“Acceptable for me to live the life I am living right now as long as I know that I will have to eventually take over my family responsibilities, perhaps even fight against you and your little white hat friends.”

For this comment, Hermione had no retort, because as much as he talked about his future, he never once talked about the impending war between light and dark wizards. She just watched him watching her while his eyes pierced hers, waiting for her reaction, and when there wasn’t one, he continued.

“I don’t know what is acceptable for you because I don’t worry myself with how Mudblood and Muggles live their lives, and frankly I don’t care. I am sure you can do anything short of a massacre and your friends Potter and Weasel would still hold you up on that high pedestal they have placed you on. I am also sure, that you haven’t let them know that we have a somewhat civil, and I use this term very loosely, relationship, and if they knew, that would be unacceptable for them to comprehend.”

“As if you have told anyone, Malfoy. Do you think Crabbe and Goyle would understand if they came across us right now and congratulate you for carrying on an, and I use this word just as loosely as you used yours, educated exchange of words?”

She was fairly aware that she was standing just a bit straighter and her hands were now placed on her hips, as if she was daring him to answer her. She was also aware of the fact that his smirk had grown into a feral grin.

“Only if they thought I was on my way to deflowering you.”

“You are disgusting Malfoy.”

She turned to walk away, but was halted by the large hand with manicured nails and calluses from grasping a broom that she saw grasping her upper arm. He was a contrast in himself. She faced him once more to see his grin was gone, and his eyes that a minute ago spoke of humor were now glowing with an emotion Hermione could not quite place.

“What is most unacceptable for me is the fact that I no longer think of you as just some random Mudblood, or even my only form of competition in this school. What is unacceptable is the fact that I am finding the more I am around you, the more I want to kiss you senseless. It is highly unacceptable that I am attracted to you.”

With those last words, he let go of her right arm that he was still holding on to, gave her one last pointed look, and walked away from her. Hermione was left standing in front of the library doors, dumbstruck, and for the second time in one night, completely at a loss of words.


~A/N~

So, what did you think? I am not quite sure how long this fic will be, but I have a few more chapters in mind, including some yummy smuttiness. I really want to know what you, the readers, make of my little story.

I am a rabid review whore, so leave any comment you want, and if you are nice, I will continue on to the next chapter!

Roberta.