Contrast

Still not mine.

~A/N~ I just wanted to give huge thanks to all of those who reviewed. I didn’t think I would get such a wonderful response to this story, but you have proved me wrong. I am now completely addicted to reviews. You are all so awesome for supporting me in my obsession of all things Harry Potter, especially when it comes to Draco/Hermione ships.

I wanted to give a special thanks to Jenn for her glowing review. You don’t sound like a fan girl, just someone who knows what she is talking about. Your review had me giggling and jumping up and down for joy, and believe me when I say, I never giggle!

Also, SnowFlakeImp, you are such a great writer and inspiration, so I am completely ecstatic that you like my story so far. You have no idea what it means to me. Thank you so much for your input! I hope you like this next chapter too.

Now, on with the show….


Hermione stood in front of her full length mirror in her private room, thoughtfully studying her reflection. Thankfully, it was one of the only objects that occupied her room that wasn’t enchanted, and therefore could not tell Hermione how awful her hair looked or how horrible her clothes were (which wizarding mirrors had been known to do). She was trying to figure out what exactly Malfoy had found attractive about her. She was currently at a loss.

Her frizzy hair wasn’t as bad as it had been her first few years at Hogwarts, but it certainly didn’t fall down her back in soft waves; As if that would ever happen. It was still the same brown color that it had always been, and while it wasn’t some remarkable shade of chestnut with beautiful natural highlights, it wasn’t as dull as Malfoy always proclaimed it to be. She had taken to wearing it in a messy pony tail or bun, and Ron had even commented that it was actually nice to see her face clearly instead of hiding it behind the mass curtain of hair. Soon after he realized he had paid her a compliment, Ron turned bright red and lowered his head so low his nose was almost emerged in the soup he was eating for lunch. Hermione had to hit Harry on his back in order to keep him from chocking on the piece of chicken he had stuffed into his mouth at the exact moment he started laughing hysterically.

Her facial features did not cause people to do a double take when she passed by them, but she wasn’t ugly either. She supposed she was in between, with her dark brown eyes (no, not espresso or chocolate, just brown), her straight nose, and her small mouth, with slightly full lips. She wore only a minimal amount of make-up, declining the insistence from Lavender Brown that she wear more. Hermione refused to look like a clown. The only thing that stood out when it came to her face was the fact that she had never once had a pimple in her life. Not once. She considered both a fluke and a miracle.

Her body was just as average as her face. She wasn’t super skinny but she certainly didn’t have curves in all the right places. She was somewhat petite, and was lucky enough to have nicely sized breasts, a stomach that didn’t bulge out but wasn’t completely flat, a nice flare of hips, and not too short legs. No one would ever mistake her for not being a girl, but she wouldn’t be walking down a catwalk anytime soon. Scrunching up her nose, Hermione came to the conclusion that she was definitely not a beauty, but there may be something there that Malfoy saw that she didn’t.

But that wasn’t really the issue, was it? The real issue was the fact that ever since last night, Hermione had began to wonder if she was attracted to Malfoy as well. She had spent the day after he told her of his revelation observing him in the classes she shared with him. Thankfully, most of the classes were spent taking notes and didn’t require her to interact with him, which gave her ample time to lead her to some sort of conclusion. While he paid attention to what their professors were lecturing about, Hermione focused all of her attentiveness on him. Now, this action was extremely un-Hermione like, but when there was a question that needed answering, she did not let anything come in her way of discovering the solution.

She examined him as thoroughly as possible while sitting across the room. His light blond hair fell freely from his head now, no longer being slicked back after Hermione told him during one of their homework sessions that it looked as if he spent all of his free time swimming in an oil spill. Now it looked silky and soft, and caused Hermione to feel a twinge of jealousy at the fact that a male had better hair than she did. His features were still pointed, but ever since he had gone through puberty, they weren’t as sharp as before, causing him to become one of the most sought after wizards at Hogwarts. He was lean, tall, and probably muscular from all that Quidditch he played. Was flying around on a broom all it really took to be so fit? Hermione would have to look into that. She also noticed that when he wasn’t smirking, sneering, or throwing out insults with every breath he took, he looked almost approachable. The only time Hermione suspected that happened was when he was concentrating on his school work or sleeping. He was still arrogant, bigoted, and sarcastic, but wasn’t that who he always was? Was he supposed to make some miraculous change over the summer between their 6th and 7th year? How realistic was that? Hermione spent the whole day trying to figure out the resolution to her query, quite upset that it wasn’t as easily resolved as she wished.

So now Hermione was standing in her room, still having the question that had become the bane of her existence plaguing her. Did she find Malfoy attractive? Huffing and stomping her feet, she believed that she did in fact think he was appealing, and while Hermione was not one to dispute a fact, it didn’t mean she had to be happy with it. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she noticed it was almost time for her nightly ritual of doing homework in the library with Malfoy. She did even think twice about not showing up as she grabbed her school bag and walked out of her room. As inconvenient as this new found attraction was, there was no way in hell she was going to let it interfere with the academic aspect of her life. She would just have to deal with it.

* * * * *

Hermione sat nervously at their table trying to read the assigned chapter in her History of Magic book, but she found that after reading the same sentence the fifth time in a row that dealing with her attraction was going to be harder than she thought. What if Malfoy didn’t show up? What if he did? Since when did she jiggle her leg? Were her palms sweating because she was apprehensive or because she was hot? What was the point of taking Muggle Studies after all since she already knew the answers to everything? Did Harry and Ron like each other more than “just friends”? Why was the password to Dumbledore’s office always some type of candy?

Damn it! This always happened when Hermione got nervous. Her mind would wander off into some void full of idiotic questions that had absolutely nothing to do with the current situation she was it. Damn her above average intelligence!

Just as Hermione shook her head to clear the asinine uncertainties that attacked her, she saw Malfoy strolling up to the table. Why did he get to be so graceful and lithe while she had been known to walk into a completely stationary object? It wasn’t fair.

“Hey Granger; I wasn’t sure if you were going to be here.” he drawled as he slid into the chair across from her and began removing his books from his bag.

“Well, I am here. You really didn’t think your little confession was going to have me cowering in my noisy common room just in order to avoid you, did you? You shouldn’t flatter yourself so much; I don’t think your head would be able to withstand the inflation Malfoy.”

“Ouch. Have you been practicing your comebacks again? Very well, shall we begin or would you like to take another jab at me?”

“Hmm, I believe I would like to continue reading.” Hermione bent her head and moved on to the next sentence in the paragraph she was reading; quite sure she would be able to concentrate now. She was happy to know that Malfoy wasn’t treating her any differently, certain that nothing would change between them. She was just as certain that Malfoy would not be happy until he go the last word.

“Mudblood.”

“Prat.”

“Sycophant.”

“Egomaniac.”

“Touché.”

* * * * *

They had continued to do their work during the next two hours in a comfortable silence. Hermione smiled to herself as she closed her Ancient Runes book, happy to be done with her reading for the night. Malfoy seemed to be done as well, since he was now leaning back in his chair, balancing on the rear legs and smirking at her while he watched her pack her belongings. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Hermione beat him to the punch.

“Let me guess, another contrast?”

“Of course.”

“What is it this time?”

“I was thinking about the girls I am usually attracted to, and the contrast between them and you.”

This truly angered Hermione. He could insult her and call her a Mudblood all he wanted, but the moment he placed her in the same category as the girls he shagged, the rage she kept intact so well was dangerously close to boiling over. She stood up so quickly that her chair scrapped across the stone floor as it shot behind her, and pointed a finger in Malfoy’s face.

“Don’t you dare compare me to those slags, Malfoy.”

“That is just the thing Granger; I am merely stating the difference between you and them.”

He stood up as well, walking to stand in front of her, pushing her accusing digit out of his line of sight.

“They tend to be very pretty. Usually with blonde or black hair, never brown. I wonder why that is. I never really liked brunettes, I am not sure why.”

“Off subject, Malfoy.”

“Right. They also are more than likely to be taller than you, curvier than you, more sexually experienced than you…”

“Are you sure about that?” Hermione’s arms were now folded across her chest and her eyebrow was raised mockingly. She almost laughed at what Malfoy didn’t know about her.

“It isn’t polite to interrupt. As I was saying, they also seem to be a little on the dim side.”

“Oh, that’s putting it mildly.”

“You on the other hand, are pretty much the complete opposite of them. Now Granger, take that scowl off of your face, it isn’t very charming.”

“Excuse me for not smiling because you basically said I have bad hair, am short, not curvaceous enough, I have the same sexual experience that I did when I was eleven, and I am not a dumb as you would like me to be. Am I right?”

“No, you aren’t. I don’t know about the experience, but as for the rest, you couldn’t be more wrong.” His voice was husky, he was almost whispering.

He was even closer to her now, standing right in front of her. She could feel the heat coming off of his body; she could smell his pricey cologne, his freshly laundered clothes, even his breath that was tickling her cheek, which indecently smelled like lemons. She noticed all of this about him, but she could not bring herself to look into his eyes. She knew they would be a dark slate gray, the way they got when he started talking about something he was passionate about; she knew that if she looked into them and he looked into hers, she would be lost to him, so she focused on his mouth instead.

He licked his lips. They were pink, and wet, and full, and they looked soft.

‘Bad idea Hermione.’

She had to change the subject.

“Why does your breath smell like lemons?” She asked incredulously, hoping her voice came out steadier than it sounded in her head.

“Why won’t you look me in the eye?” How can a smirk make a sound?

“I asked you first.”

She saw his lips curve into a smile and then he did something that almost made her knees give out and caused her breath to become labored. He stuck out his tongue and she saw the remnants of what looked like a lemon drop.

“Now your turn.”

The tips of his shoes were touching hers and he was most definitely whispering now.

‘Don’t weaken now, Hermione. You can do this. They are just eyes; pupils, irises, basically gobs of goop. Do it! Don’t let him get to you, don’t let him win.’

Raising her chin along with her eyes, Hermione met his. There, she did it. She stared him right smack dab in the eyes, letting him know he didn’t rile her up as much as he intended. Plus, her knees did not give out like she suspected. So, not only was she meeting his smoldering gaze, but she was still standing; Quite an accomplishment.

Malfoy let out a little chuckle and took a step back causing Hermione to sigh with relief, inwardly of course.

“I think you should let me kiss you.” He stated almost professionally.

What?

“What?”

“I propose it as a sort of experiment. We are both intelligent, and I am looking at this from a purely educational point of view. I am attracted to you, as you know, and it is quite obvious that you are attracted to me, because, I mean, who isn’t? I would like to determine if this is just an innocent attraction for both of us or if it is genuine, unadulterated lust. What do you say?”

“Purely educational?”

“Of course.”

Hermione considered her options. She could let him kiss her and see if the attraction she harbored for him was more deeply rooted, or she could say no and always wonder what could have been. Still holding his eyes with her own, she opened her mouth to agree and list her terms of engagement, but she swallowed her words as she saw his eyes shift to her mouth and felt his lips descend onto hers.

He kissed her slow and languidly, his tongue exploring the cavern of her mouth at his ease, his lips soft yet bruising, urgent yet controlled. Hermione kissed him back just as nimbly as he kissed her. One of his hands clutched the back of her head, keeping her in place just in case she decided to pull back. The other was placed on her lower back, pressing the length of her body into his. She felt the edge of the table against the back of her thighs, but she didn’t care if she was being prodded with hot pokers, as long as he kept kissing her. Hermione was vaguely aware that her hands were grabbing bunches of his robes, trying to meld him to her as much as she could without causing them to fall over. The longer the kiss went on, the more passionate it became until the two of their mouths were pushing each other and their tongues were battling for dominance.

Hermione wasn’t quite sure who broke the kiss, but she was fairly certain that her skin was on fire and the air had completely vanished from her lungs. They still held each other tightly, yet it felt to Hermione that there was too much space between them. He kissed her again, with closed swollen lips, not lasting nearly as long as Hermione wanted.

He stepped back and retreated to the other side of the table to pick up his bag as Hermione grabbed onto the edge of the table with both hands, certain that she was most surely going to drop to the floor if she let go.

He turned to her, his handsome face displaying the smirk that Hermione now realized she found quite appealing.

“Just as I suspected; Lust. We may have to do something about that. Until tomorrow night Granger.”

He walked down the hall and Hermione could hear the library door open and close all the while not moving a muscle. Yes, it was lust, he was right. Damn, she hated it when he was right! With that sobering thought, she finally found the strength to move and stand on her own. She left the library and entered the Gryffindor common room in a haze of desire, with only one comprehensible thought; Lemon drops would never taste the same.


~A/N~

So there is the first kiss. What is steamy enough or what? I know it was a big lead up, but I wanted it to be. Oh, and did you guys catch the not-so-subtle clichés that are often found in Hermione/Draco ships? I admit I was guilty of using them at one time or another and what kind of sense of humor do I have if I can’t poke fun at myself, right?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully the next one will be coming up soon. Be nice; feed my addiction, review for me. Please, please, please? With a cherry on top? And don’t be afraid to share any thoughts or tips. I am very open-minded. Oodles and oodles of “Thank You”s to those who do.

Roberta