Pretty Girl

A/N: Thank you all for the very lovely reviews!! I will try to answer them so here goes:

fantasyaxis: I love the word brilliant! I have a very funny story invovling that word and some guy I was dating. Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

Morgan80Snape: I'm glad you find it intriguing! And to stop that wait, here's the next chapter!

lalibeutko: Thank you! I think I will.

LadyBlueEyes: Thank you very much for you insightful reply. I, too, have been in Hermione's shoes, where it feels like your accomplishments and everything you've done will never be good enough before you are 'pretty' or 'desirable' enough, and I think that is a feeling that most people can relate too, men and women alike. It's hard because we are a visual culture and some people just look better then others. I think the important thing to remember, though, is the beauty that is discovered in the soul of people. I definitely have a plan for bringing these two souls together and I hope you enjoy it! And it's okay to feel sorry for Draco, I know that I've never seen him as a villian.

nastygrl: Thank you, thank you! It's hard getting into the skin of these two because as a writer you want to do right by them.

Coipje: Well, I love that you love it. I'll let you know of any chapters the require Kleenex.

Liz: I agree. Hermione is a very strong young woman and I think, like most strong young women, she does have her moments of weakness. It just that she tries to have them when she is alone. Thank you for the review.

PotterEntourage: Thank you. I hope you like where it's going.

tootsie: Thank you, thank you, I will!

Meeeo: Thanks, thanks, thanks!

paigeey07: Thanks!

Avanell: Aw, thank you. Here is my continuance. Look for more to follow!

Fiona: I'm very glad you enjoyed it. Here's another helping of 'Pretty Girl', just for you!

InLoveWithLove: Oh my friggin god, I have a faithful reader!! Yay! It's seriously all I have ever wanted. I hope this chapter satisfies you're fix for this story! You faithful writer, StarKneazle!

kazfeist: Thank you. I have not decided yet on any Dark Mark wearing, but I have placed it in sixth year. I don't like making Hermione and Draco Heads together, though I did throw that idea around. I just think sometimes the whole Heads idea makes things to convienent for them, although it adds some nice tension to stories, like Claiming Hermione, which is an influence for this story. Go read that, but I'm sure you already are.

harrys_girl295: Thanks! Yeah, I beta things myself so I don't always catch the errors.

lina: Thank you. You talked me into continuing. So everyone has you to thank! :-)

loolupe: Thank you very much. Yes, I love angst too. I have a hard time writing it, though, because I sometimes feel like I can get over the top with it. If that happens, you're going to have to pull me back, though I don't think you'll be complaining.

scribbledoodles: Now see, I've been telling people for years that I rock, it nice to know someone finally agrees. As for this being a variation on "The Education . . ." I've never seen it that way. Maybe it is and I'm just writing the same story differently over and over again. Hmm, that is something to ponder.

goddessaisha: Yeah, I like this Hermione, though I have been known to portray her in a way that is counter to what she truly embodies (see above mentioned story). I think she is definitely on of the more complex characters in the series and I love to play around with her. Thanks for reading!


Thank you all for the lovely reviews and to everyone who read and did not review. You guys still count in my heart!


*
Chapter Two: Two Little Words
*


Hermione sat in Potions, trying desperately to stifle a yawn. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, Malfoy’s words playing over in her head as she stared at her canopy. There was no way he could have known what she was thinking, no way that he was actually telling her that she was beautiful. Draco Malfoy would never come up to her and tell her that everyone was wrong about her.

They’re wrong.

She groaned and closed her eyes. He had said that. Those words had come out of his mouth. She could remember in fine detail what he had looked like as he whispered those words to her, how his mouth had looked, how his eyes flashed in the darkness. She could feel the wind whipping around her and then the strange coldness she had felt after he had left.

She had felt utterly and completely empty after he had left.

She had watched him leave without so much as saying a single word to him. She realized, far too late, that she had treated the encounter like a coward. She should have run after him and demanded an explanation for his damning words. And then, when he would have stood there offering nothing, she should have thrown herself upon him. He had, in a sense, called her beautiful. So why not? He would have kissed her back, would have held her, would have whispered beautifully heartbreaking things in her ear as he turned her into the girl she wanted to be . . .

She snickered to herself. He would have done none of those things. This was Malfoy she was thinking about! He was just playing some kind of cruel joke on her, she was certain. He was no grand Legilimens and there was no way that his words had any reflection upon what she was thinking. They were just words, two little words that didn’t mean a thing.

Two little words that were slowly becoming everything.

She was broken from her reverie by Neville, Gods thanks him, who was watching his potion with frantic eyes. It was near the boiling point and Hermione was more then happy for a distraction.

*

The entire class period, he felt her. He felt her behind him like a knife in his back. It wasn’t that she was looking at him, as he hadn’t felt two rage filled eyes boring holes into him, no. It was something else entirely. It was her scent that he found himself so aware of that it occasionally waft over to where he sat and invade his sense entirely. It was the mere thought that she was behind him, right now, in the same vicinity as him, breathing the same air as he and existing in the same universe he was in. It was how close they were without physically occupying the same space.

It was how distant they were even though they were mere feet apart.

Draco had cursed himself, her, his father, Voldemort, Snape, Potter, Dumbledore, the wizard who built the damn Astronomy Tower and Merlin himself as he hurried to his common room, hoping that familiar settings would lay his mind to rest. He found that once he arrived, he really couldn’t stand the color green and snakes were just vile creatures altogether.

He then cursed Hermione once more as he trudged to his private room. She had infected him, turning him traitor, that bloody witch! She was turning him against all things Slytherin, and all it took were a few tears running down her face and her soft body as it breathed heavily in the night, her cheeks flushing and her eyes sparking as she argued with him. Damn, she got him so hot. She was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before, with her fiery nature and sharp mind. Her intelligence alone was a wet dream, but coupled with a body that he knew, under all those robes, was just magnificently crafted was enough to do him in.

He paced his room restlessly as forbidden images crowded his mind. What he wouldn’t give to have her screaming underneath him as he carefully, painstakingly, made her his. What he wouldn’t give to capture those ripe, teasing lips between his own, to mold her breast into his hand and gently knead her soft, supple skin. She was a feast, and he intended to eat every bit of her, suckling down her sweetness before finally finding his own completion in her sweet body.

Damn her! He furiously thought as he began ripping off his clothes. He finally stood naked in his room, looking down at the effect her imagery had on his body. His erection stood out proudly from his body, a reminder of everything he couldn’t have. He roughly grasped himself in his hand, stroking the flesh hard for a turn before sinking onto his bed. His breath came out in sharp pants as the pleasure rippled through his body, through skin, out his pores and into the night. He lay backwards, getting comfortable, as he thought of Hermione’s soft skin.

His thoughts spiraled downward the more he thought of her, gripping himself harder as the images dancing through his head became more vibrant and graphic. He imagined dragging her through his common room, surprise on all his housemates’ faces before bringing her into his room. The firelight would dance gracefully off her soft skin, the warm glow finding the crevasses and hollows of her face, caressing her face softly before he raised his hand and touched her gentle skin. He slowly lowered his lips to her and fell into the plump lushness of them as they kissed, slowly backing her up towards the bed and laying her down on it.

He took his time undressing her, revealing each part of her body with as much glee as a child on Christmas day. She was a present, a gift, something to be cherished that was sent to him to protect him from the evils of this world. Her skin was his salvation; her mind was his hiding place. This was a woman who would fight for him, fight with him, and stand by him through all the pain to come.

His eyes feasted on her body, the swells of her chest, the tight cherries that topped off each succulent breast. He peeled her shirt off, throwing the white material away from the bed. He captured one nipple with his teeth, Hermione moaning in pleasure as her back arched and she gripped his hair fiercely. He just grinned against her flesh and worked his way down her body, trailing his lips against her hot skin before he got to her skirt.

He carefully unzipped her uniform skirt, lowering the material and her knickers at the same time. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her womanhood for the first time, decorated in fine, dainty brown curls. He plunged his face down into her most intimate part, seeking out his treasure with his eyes closed. He flicked out his tongue, tracing it forcibly around her clit. Hermione tightened her hold on his hair, gripping the ash blond strands, screaming at the pleasure she was receiving from him.

Draco had come all over his hand at that image alone. The intense pleasure he received from the image of her coming in his mouth had been for to great for him. He had sent himself into the stratosphere, having never felt such sexual pleasure and fulfillment like that. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what it would like if she ever really showed up in his room and they got to act out these fantasies. He hadn’t even been able to imagine what it would feel like to pound into her, as he had ruptured at the mere thought of licking her clean. It was an intensely powerful image; her clutching to his hair, his tongue dragging across her wet slit, her body shaking as she found her release in his mouth.

But it was all just that, an image that wasn’t likely to play itself out.

Draco lazily reached over and grasped his wand, firing off a cleansing spell before falling into an immediate deep sleep. He had rested well that night, but now he found himself plagued with the images of her that his mind had conjured up. He was so acutely aware of her breathing in the Potions classroom that it was slowly driving him crazy. He wanted to turn around and grab her, bend her over in front of all their classmates and Professor and roughly take what he knew to be his.

Snape’s sharp voice brought him back from his blissful daydream, only to realize that he was yelling at Hermione for helping Longbottom again. When was she going to learn that Longbottom was a hopeless case and she needed to watch out for herself? He turned around, sneering at her as Snape took away House points. Gods, he hated having to act this way towards her.

She looked over at him, her eyes widening as she watched him enjoying her punishment. His jaw began to clench but he firmly held his expression in place. If she knew how he really felt, he would be dead, along with her. That was something he could not allow to happen. He would not see her hurt for him.

Merlin save him.

Just then, they were all saved by the end of the torturous class. The students stood up as Snape dismissed them, Draco standing up so he could walk by Hermione as she gathered her things. He slowed down as he approached her desk, watching her furiously stuff things into her overcrowded bag. That ratty thing looked as if it would break any second. He gritted his teeth at her inability to care for her appearance or the way she allowed her things to become worn and never deciding to replace them. She looked up then through streams of her hair, pegging him right in the eyes, an indigenous look of angry shining through her amber depths.

He took an imperceptible intake of air and walked passed her, turning his head to break the eye contact. He swiftly walked away from her, rushing down to his common room. He could feel himself beginning to get aroused, that look of anger in her eyes turning him on. Gods, he loved it when she was angry. If he were honest with himself, he would realize that all those times he had gone out of his way to make her angry were surely for the purpose of seeing that look in her eyes.

He slammed to door to his room and stripped. He looked down at his semi erect penis and groaned, taking the flesh in hand.

He needed to find an answer to his problem and fast, or he was liable to wank all the skin off of himself.

*

Hermione walked swiftly to her common room after dinner, trying desperately to not think of that look Draco had given her in Snape’s dungeon classroom. She was silently fuming at the Potion’s Master, as she now had detention for doing the one thing that she could not, and would not, stop doing: helping others. Neville was her friend and if he needed help before blowing himself to pieces then she was going to give him that help.

Nothing Snape did or said would ever change that.

Thinking of the Head of Slytherin had made her think of another Slytherin, although those thoughts were unbidden. She didn’t want to think of Draco; didn’t want to think of his silver eyes awash with an emotion she could not place, did not want to place. She did not want to even explore the possibility that he was feeling the same confusion that she was. It was too dangerous of a thing to think of.

Gods, who was she kidding? She gave the password to the portrait and walked into her common room, bypassing everyone to disappear into her bedroom and flop on her bed, pulling back her curtains as she closed her eyes and groaned. It didn’t mean anything! It was just Malfoy, being the arsehole that he always was. He was trying to get under her skin, trying to unnerve her, trying to knock her off her guard.

And it was working. He seemed to be winning this round.

She turned over onto her side and stared deeply into the curtain around her bed. Thank Merlin she did not have Prefect duty tonight. She didn’t think she could handle that. A litany of tasks that she had to do fluttered through her head and she realized with a sinking feeling that she had forgotten something.

The Yule Ball was coming up soon and she was on the committee this year to help plan it. It would not be too hard of a task to accomplish, because her committee was a good one, comprised of people who actually thought things through, and not just idiots who wanted the impossible to happen.

Luna was on her team, which made her feel good because the young Ravenclaw was sure to add her own special twist to things. Luna also happened to be very perceptive, a trait most people overlooked in her because she was just so odd. That perception, however, usually lead Hermione to think of things she never would have thought of before; even if Hermione was loathe to admit that. Susan Bones was also on her team, and even though she was more subdued then she had been in the past, due in large part to the attacks and murders on her family, she was a welcome addition to the team, one of the few Hufflepuffs Hermione knew who were actually very sensible people. Terry Boot joined Luna as another Ravenclaw and although Hermione didn’t know him too well, he had served in the D. A. with them and she knew him to be very reliable. Which lead her to. .

Shite.

She closed her eyes. How could she have forgotten? Malfoy was also in her group, having picked the Yule Ball to work on because he saw it as an easy task, no doubt. The group had a meeting set up in two days and, if Malfoy showed at all, she was going to have to deal with him being there.

She was a fool. She wouldn’t mind him being there at all. Hermione was frustrated with herself. How could one single event in time, an event that wasn’t likely to be repeated, become the focal point of all she was? Malfoy was just having a laugh at her, that’s all. He hadn’t meant what he said and he was hoping to have this effect on her, probably banking on it so he could play up what he was doing to her when the punch line hit. This was all some infuriating plan that he had set up and it rankled her to know that she had fallen into it. She couldn’t think of anything else other then this stupid boy. This stupid, slimy, Slytherin git who, who-

Who had made her feel something. Really and truly made her feel something. He had always made her feel something, whether it was indignant anger or frustration. Now he had just somehow managed to combine the two, bringing the feelings together through a five minute conversation that meant nothing, absolutely nothing.

She silently cursed herself for allowing such a small thing to become her existence. She was not the kind of girl who got infatuated with boys, who pined after the male gender of the species. She was never one to fancy wizards and have them fancy her in return. It was not in her nature to have crushes and to want to be with someone. And if she ever wanted to explore the notion of a relationship, it certainly would not be with Malfoy!

As Hermione got ready for bed, she tried to keep the image of him staring into her eyes out of her head. As she changed into her night clothes, she tried to not think about what it would feel like to be naked in front of him, watching his eyes glaze over as they captured her glowing skin in a lusty gaze. As she climbed into bed, she desperately tried to not think of his own bed, the one he was laying in right now, with its expensive sheets and heavy comforter. She tried not to think of curling up beside him as they slept, his arm protectively wrapped around her stomach. She fought to not think of those two little words that had changed everything.

They’re wrong.

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed and read. I am slowly becoming really attached to this story. Did you know that it started as just a oneshot, then a two chapter story? Then I was convinced I could finish it off in three. But then I realized there was so much I wanted to do with it. Maybe I will leave a fun fact about this story with every chapter I write.

Fun Fact: The reason I wrote this chapter was because my RD woke me up at 11:50 to do a Drom Check and I needed something to do to occupy my time before I could fall asleep.

Goodnight!