Contrast

A/N~ Once again I want to thank all of those who reviewed my story. I appreciate it so much, especially those of you who have been with me and leaving me reviews since the first chapter. I hope you continue to give me your magnificent support. A lot of you have been telling me how well I write, and it flips me! You guys are the awesome ones, not me!

Helen~ I am freaking in love with your reviews, they are like air to me! As much as I love them, I can’t answer your question without giving the story away. I will say this, there will be no fluffy sugary lovey-dovey bullshit going on between Hermione and Draco. I hate when stories have them falling in love in record time, all the while reducing Draco to a whiney little wussie. I want my story to be different, and so, I have decided to not include love. That isn’t to say there won’t be a happy ending, maybe there will be, but it won’t be your typical happy ending. Did that clear a few things up for you?

Okay, on to the ramblings that help pass the time at work….



Hermione was scared beyond all belief. More scared than she was in her first year when she was cornered in the girl’s bathroom by that stinky gigantic troll. Did he notice her hair was messy? Were her buttons done up correctly? Did she have the sent of Malfoy on her? Did he notice Malfoy’s huge erection, because she sure as hell did? Why did Harry choose right now to come and get her, when he knew she would be in the common room after she was done with her work? Did he and Ron have a fight again? What is really going on with them? How did that crack happen in the wall? Why was it always so cold in the castle? Did Harry ever brush his hair? Was Snape as callous as he seemed to be, or did he just need a really good hug?

Damn it! Not again.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to clear her head of the questions that bounced around in her head. It was then that she realized that as she and Harry were walking down the hall and coming to the stairs that lead to Gryffindor Tower, Harry hadn’t said anything to her.

She glanced sideways at him, taking in his brilliantly messy raven hair and the emerald eyes that often alternated between shinning with good humor or anger or some other extreme sensation. Didn’t he have a neutral emotion? Hermione already knew the answer to that, she had known Harry for seven years, but then again, she was sure there were still some things she didn’t know about him.

He had grown quite tall over the year, he was about the same height as Malfoy, but not as tall as Ron. He was still lanky, his body never getting over the malnourishment he received during the summer holidays. He had grown handsome over the years, causing a lot of girls through out the school to compete for his attention. Actually, along with Malfoy, Harry was wanted very much by the female population of Hogwarts. Yet, he never really seemed interested in the attention he received, passing it off as a side effect of being famous and the wizarding world’s “savior”. He hadn’t had a girlfriend since the whole Cho Chang debacle, but around school, she was a celebrity in her own right, being the only girl to have actually snogged Harry Potter.

Harry cleared his throat, causing Hermione to notice that not only had they arrived at the Fat Lady portrait, but he had caught Hermione staring at him.

“Sorry Harry. I was just trying to figure out what was on your mind.”

Harry merely nodded and smiled, giving the Fat Lady the password and stepping into the common room, waiting for Hermione to follow.

He knows, he knows, he knows, he knows. Damn, damn, damn! He knows, he knows, he knows, he knows.

Stupid irrational thoughts. And now here comes the hand fidgeting. When Hermione was nervous, it took all the mental strength she had not to fidget, but right now, all of her brain power had vacated the premises due to the untimely make out session with Malfoy. Okay, so it was a little more than a make out session, but that is all her brain would allow her to come up with at the moment.

Trying desperately to keep her hands at her side, Hermione joined Harry on the big couch that was seated in front of the fireplace that took up most of the wall, watching Ron and Dean Thomas playing a game of wizard’s chess. She looked at him again, but he didn’t seem mad, he just seemed, well, neutral. Hmm, maybe he was able to keep his emotions in tact. They sat together on the couch for about five minutes, watching the game, laughing at the verbal sparring that Ron and Dean would engage in when one would lose a piece to the other. Just when Hermione thought she was in the clear, Harry turned to her, looking at her inquisitively.

“What do you and Malfoy do in the library?”

Damn, damn, damn! As Hermione met his eyes, she saw that his eyes were shining with curiosity. Yes, he was definitely unable to be neutral. Overwhelmed with guilt, Hermione smiled the best she could at her best friend, vowing not to lie to him, but only to not divulge the whole truth.

“Um, we do homework, talk about Head’s matters.”

He cocked his head to the side, smiling lopsidedly, reminding Hermione of the stray puppy that she brought home when she was seven, only to have it run away the next day.

“He doesn’t do anything to upset you, does he?”

“Not really. Why do you ask?”

The soft smile that graced his handsome face was replaced by a look of concern.

“When I walked up to you two, Malfoy had that smug smirk on his face and you looked flustered, like you were frustrated. I just figured you were fighting.”

“Oh, uh, no.” Relief didn’t even begin to describe the feeling Hermione felt when she realized that Harry had not in fact noticed their tousled appearances and Malfoy’s, um, excited condition, but had only thought that they were arguing. Hermione would take that assumption over what really happened any day.

“Good, because if he did anything to hurt you, I would damage him proper.”

“No, that’s okay Harry. It’s fine. I am used to his little jabs at me by now. They are just words.”

“Okay.”

And with that, Harry turned his attention back to the chess game. Hermione noticed his eyes lingered on Ron a bit, the lopsided smile returning to his face as he called out that he got to play the winner, who would most certainly be Ron.

This gave Hermione plenty of time to think about what had just happened in the library while pretending to pay attention to the game. Why did she give in so easily? It was not because Malfoy had “charmed” her, okay, maybe a little bit, but it was mostly because he challenged her, and Hermione was never one to back down from a challenge she knew she could win.

And she did win, didn’t she? Malfoy’s mask of calm collectedness slipped once more, and Hermione was felt strangely accomplished that it was because of her. Hermione reminded herself that she would have to rub it in his face later on.

But why did she let him touch her like he did? That was the real question. Hermione already knew the answer, because she wanted him to. She could have pushed him off of her, smacked him, and hexed him with the most advanced magic she could gather together, but instead, she kissed him back, she touched him back, though not as intimately as he touched her. She let him, because it was pleasurable, because she was attracted to Malfoy, and because it was what she wanted to happen. It was so very unlike her, and that was the point. She was tired of being just the bookworm, the know-it-all, the one everyone came to when they needed help with their school work. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted to do something for herself, she wanted to do what felt good, and being in a physical relationship with Malfoy achieved that desire. She knew she should stop, but because it was so out of character for her, Hermione told herself she would continue to seek out pleasure with Malfoy, and just keep it to herself. For once in seven years, she would do something completely for herself.

The laughter of Ron and Harry drew her out of her thoughts, and instantly caused her to feel another wave of guilt to wash over her. They were joking with each other, accusing the other of cheating, looking just so innocent and oblivious. They were Hermione’s best friends, how could she go behind their backs and have a relationship with the one person in school they hated with a fiery passion? Sighing, Hermione came to the conclusion that what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She would just make it up to them in other ways.

“Boys, how about we spend all day together tomorrow?”

They both turned to her, green and blue eyes still gleaming with amusement, smiling at her as if she just told them she had finally decided to give flying another chance (they had tried to convince her many times before, but it always ended with Hermione storming out of the room and with them full of regret for bringing it up in the first place.)

Ron was the first to fully understand what she suggested, and an expression of fear materialized on his face when he asked, “You aren’t going to make us do homework, are you?”

“No, Ron, not this time. We will just spend some quality time together. What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ron stated, first glancing at Harry, and then turning back to their chess game.

“I would really like that Hermione.” Harry said, his eyes now twinkling with affection, briefly reminding her of Dumbledore.


* * * * *

Walking to the library at exactly 7:45 p.m. Hermione felt exhausted, wondering how it is that Ron and Harry could carry on the way they did every day. The day was filled with time spent near the Black Lake, eating all meals together, visiting Hagrid for tea, and just generally wandering around the castle and its grounds, looking for something to do. They finally ended up back in the common room with Harry and Ron playing a game of Exploding Snap while Hermione nursed the headache she felt coming on until she had to leave.

Had Harry and Ron always been so difficult? One moment they were joking with each other, the next they were talking animatedly about Quidditch, and then they were arguing for some foolish reason and all of the sudden they would turn to Hermione, who would be telling them that they were fighting over something miniscule and unimportant, and start to take the mickey out of her for no apparent reason other than their own entertainment, causing them to forget about why they were fighting in the first place. It was draining just listening to it all. Hermione loved her boys to death, but if the day didn’t end soon, she feared she was either going to strangle them, or herself. And they thought girls were complex!

Hermione also couldn’t help but observe the friendship Harry and Ron had through out the day. While they did argue quite a lot, they always had something to talk about, never running out of topics for their conversations. They listened to what the other had to say with an attentiveness Hermione wished they would use in class, and once in a while Hermione would catch one giving the other a look that contained an sensation that she couldn’t quite place, and Hermione always thought she was particularly intuitive. But Hermione didn’t question them about it, and they didn’t reveal anything particularly shocking, other than the fact that Harry caught Ron kissing Parvati Patil a week ago, and when Ron asked Harry about snogging with Cho Chang, he blushed and mumbled something about tea houses and hosepipes. So not only was Hermione pooped by the end of the day, she was also confused.

So after taking some potion that cured headaches, Hermione kissed both boys on the cheek, and bid them a good night, telling them to not wait up for her, as she didn’t know what time the Head’s Meeting would be over. Ron scoffed and mentioned something about ferrets while Harry told her to be careful. Smiling at them, Hermione waved good bye and stepped out of the portrait hole into the corridor.

Arriving at the library doors, Hermione reminded herself that this could be just a regular meeting with Malfoy, like all the other ones before it. They would make schedules for hall monitoring and list duties for the prefects, they would go over who had lost house points, who had gained them, what events they had coming up in the next month, and they would of course exchange verbal blows with each other, thus signifying the end of the meeting. Just like all the others, right?

Hermione answered her own question when she walked up to the table, seeing Malfoy leaning against it with aristocratic laziness. Is that an oxymoron? He wore a dark green dress shirt with tailored black trousers and what Hermione could only guess were dragon skin boots. His hair fell freely, reaching just above his ears, and he was looking at what Hermione figured to be the schedules they were to organize. Hermione looked down at herself, taking in her pleated charcoal skirt, her pale pink jumper, and her black ballet flats. She remembered wrapping her hair in a bun using a quill earlier in the day, and was deeply mortified to find out it was still there. She had the immediate feeling of being grossly underdressed.

Malfoy hadn’t noticed her yet, still concentrating on the piece of parchment in his hands. When she cleared her throat, she expected him to jump, to be startled, to show some kind of evidence that he was surprised, but all he did was lift his head, smirk at her, and then lick his lips.

“About time you showed up Mudblood. You know I hate tardiness.”

“You know damn well that I am on time Malfoy, but if I had known this was going to be a formal event, I would have changed my clothes.”

“There is nothing wrong with looking put together and handsome, Granger.”

“I think you look like a poof.” Hermione had no intention of telling Malfoy that she actually thought the complete opposite.

“Now you and I both know that isn’t true. You think I look damn delectable, and I happen to completely agree.”

Hermione wanted to tell him he was only lying to himself, but she found that she couldn’t get the words out. She happened to be a fantastic liar, but she chose to use her powers for good. Plus, she always had an awful sinking feeling in her stomach right after she lied, well, to people she cared about anyway. Not that she cared about Malfoy, she just wanted to move on to the next subject as she was afraid the truth would eventually come out that she 100% agreed with Malfoy and that she wanted to jump on him and stick her tongue down his throat. He would hold that over her head for a long time, and Hermione didn’t feel like using the killing curse today, so she held the words that were threatening to escape by biting her tongue.

“Can we just get on with this Malfoy?”

“As you wish.”

They spent the next hour or so going over their duties, completing the schedule, and tying up any loose ends that came to their attention. Hermione tried her best to focus at the tasks at hand, but every time Malfoy spoke, the smell of lemons would assail her and cause her mind to conjure up images of the two of them locked in each other’s arms, Malfoy kissing her passionately and doing naughty things to her body. Each time Hermione would get lost in her thoughts, she was brought back to reality by Malfoy snapping his long fingers in front of her face and commenting on the short attention span of Mudbloods. After the most arduous Head’s Meeting they had, Hermione was thankful that she would be leaving momentarily, or so she thought.

“Granger, another contrast for your consideration.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Have you ever wondered why we are both heads but we have completely different degrees of intelligence?”

“Now you are insulting my intelligence? This will be pleasant.”

“You see, my intelligence in natural because of my superior, and may I add pure, blood line. All of my ancestors have been exceptionally smart. Obviously, it was passed down to me, causing me to be the cleverest wizard in school. It is only natural that I excel in school and comprehend anything magical placed in front of me. Your intellect is simply “book smarts”. You consume books and words like they are air because of your inhuman appetite for information. Your memory of all things academic is what causes you to be intelligent. My astuteness is instinctive, while yours is learned.”

Hermione watched Malfoy, now pacing up and down the length of the table, spouting out at the mouth about something that had no absolute basis of fact. She just had to laugh.

“Whatever you think Malfoy. I just hope you know that it is a load of manure.”

“Who says?”

“I say.”

Hermione stood up and Malfoy stopped pacing to end up right in front of her, a smirk playing on his desirable lips, his eyes alight with more than supremacy arrogance.

“Are we done here?”

“I don’t think so Granger. How about you meet me in the Restricted Section in 5 minutes? I have something I would like to discuss with you in private, and since we are the only two students allowed in there without permission, the likelihood of being interrupted is very slim.”

“5 minutes?”

He nodded, his smirk growing into a grin laced with hunger when he understood that she agreed. “You go first. I will be right there.”

Hermione simply looked at him for a moment before she set off down the hall. She entered the dank hall of books that was shut off to most of the Hogwarts students, where she leaned against a bookshelf partially hidden in the shadows. What was she doing? It’s bad enough to let Malfoy do unimaginable things to her, but in front of the precious, precious books? That was just plain crazy. Thankfully Hermione wasn’t able to analyze her behavior much more, for at the moment, Malfoy entered the Restriction Section, and without a word, he rapidly walked over to Hermione and claimed her lips in a rough demanding lemony kiss.

Once again, his tongue battled with hers for dominance, his hands were placed on either side of her head, and his lean body was fully pressed against hers, trapping Hermione between the shelf and his frame. Hermione reached around with both arms to pull him eve closer to her, if possible, grabbing at his shirt and untucking it with enthusiasm.

As Malfoy’s lips left hers to journey down her jaw line and neck, he begin speaking in a soft whisper, his voice heavy with need.

“I have wanted to do that since you walked into the library. Why is it so hard to resist you?”

Hermione, so focused on unbuttoning his shirt, vaguely recalled her brain barley making sense of what he just said.

“I guess it’s in my dirty blood.”

Malfoy chuckled as he snaked his hands under her jumper, and then under her bra, to palm her breasts. He groaned slightly when he felt Hermione’s pebbled nipples respond to his touch, becoming harder with arousal. His cool hands were refreshing to Hermione’s hot skin, her body feeling as if it was on fire once again. How does he do that to her?

Hermione released the part of his neck that she was laving at the moment, only to bend her head down and claim one of his small nipples in her mouth, biting and sucking until she could hear the intake of his breath through his teeth, signaling that it was almost too much to take. At that exact moment, Hermione felt the quill being seized from her hair, liberating it from its confines and falling down her back. She also felt Malfoy’s hands leave her breasts and plunge into her tresses; she could have sworn she heard him moan. Hermione dismissed the thought as Malfoy roughly took hold of her hair and yanked her head up so her dark eyes met his metallic ones cloaked in lust.

“I want to taste you. It’s all I can think about, if you are a sweet as I imagine. When I licked your cum off of my fingers last night, it nearly drove me up the wall, wanting to taste more. You are like a drug, Granger. A drug I fully plan on getting addicted to.”

Malfoy didn’t wait for an affirmative from Hermione, which was absolutely fine with her, because she highly doubted she could speak after Malfoy’s one sided dialogue. He just kissed her again, before he lowered himself to the ground, and pushed Hermione’s legs apart, placing one bent knee on his shoulder.

She could feel his hands and lips meandering up her smooth legs before they reached her upper thighs, pressing them apart as far as they could go without causing Hermione to fall over. Thank Merlin she shaved today.

All thoughts of hygiene vanished when she felt one long graceful finger slide under her panty line, only to stroke her along her folds leisurely, a second digit joining soon after the first. Just when Hermione thought she was going to have to smack Malfoy on the back of his head in order to tell him to get a move on, the two fingers plummeted into her wet core, causing Hermione to feel her stomach drop and her body explore with pleasure. She had bit her bottom lip so hard to keep from screaming out that she tasted blood, but did not give one damn.

Hermione felt Malfoy’s fingers leave her, only to have both hands grasp her knickers and tug them down with a force that suggested Malfoy was in quite a hurry. Lifting the leg that was resting on Malfoy’s shoulder, Hermione felt her underwear fall to the ankle of the leg that was currently keeping her steady.

“Are you ready for me Granger?”

His voice was thick and deep. The sensation of his hands still on her thighs coupled with the sound of his voice and the appearance of Malfoy placed in between her legs was enough to make Hermione moan “Why don’t you find out.”

This was all Malfoy needed, for right after she said her piece, she felt his warm tongue lick her center, his mouth alternating between laving her like ice cream and sucking on her like one of his beloved lemon drops. He then mouthed her clit as his nimble fingers entered her once more, thrusting in and out, drenching themselves in her arousal and his saliva. Her hands gripped the shelf behind her, before she let go and shoved her delicate fingers into Malfoy’s silky hair. Hermione felt the building of the explosion in her stomach for a second time, and came violently as Malfoy continued stroke her with his talented tongue.

Hermione, being the nice and thoughtful girl that she was, clutching the hair she was so tenderly stroke just a moment ago, brought Malfoy up to her level, lavishing his mouth with brutal kisses, the taste of her on his mouth only elevating her arousal. Before he could protest, Hermione spun them around so that he was now the one pressed against the self, and she was the one fondling him.

“Granger, you don’t have to.”

Did he sound a little worried?

“I want to. Now shut up.”

Hermione, having already unbuttoned his shirt, placed kisses all over his chest and stomach, hesitating only to mark him as hers. When she reached her knees and begun unsnapping his trousers, she heard a soft “Fuck.” So soft it was barley audible. When she pulled down his pants, along with his boxer shorts (black, if you must know), and took his fully erect cock in her mouth, she heard “Fuck!” again, only this time there was no mistaking it for being said quietly.

Hermione sucked and licked the way he did to her, one hand wrapping around his length stroking him to match the movement of her mouth, as he was quite large and she could take all of him in her mouth, and the other gently kneading his balls. It was not Hermione’s first time giving head, so she was not shy in the least. Granted she performed on only one other guy, but he had assured her that she was a natural, and from Malfoy’s groans and the way his hands held the back of her head, she couldn’t help but think Malfoy would probably agree. Smiling at the thought, Hermione begin to move her head faster while humming in satisfaction of her new found talent.
“Fuck, Granger, I am going to cum. FUCK!”

Hermione felt the salty and tangy liquid of Malfoy’s release stream into her mouth. She swallowed while looking up at Malfoy’s astonished face, smiling when he repeated what seemed to be his favorite curse word. Okay, so maybe it didn’t taste that great, fine, it made her want to gag, but the look on Malfoy’s face was well worth it. He let his façade slip again, and it was because of her, again!

Hermione rose up from her knees, which happened to be sore now, thanks to the hard stone floor, and pulled her knickers up replacing them under her skirt while Malfoy did up his trousers and buttoned his shirt. Hermione knew that he had noticed she noticed he lost his cool. Does that make sense? Damn muddled brain, how long did it take to get back into working order?

The look of collected indifference back on his handsome face, Malfoy looked at Hermione with a mixture of craving and contempt. Oh no, that can’t be good.

“Good show Granger. I must say, that was one of the best blow jobs I have ever had the pleasure of enduring. Don’t go getting a big head now; I said one of the best, not the best. That belongs to Romilda Vane. Quite a mouth, that one has, and a bloody fantastic technique. Well, until next time, good night.”

As Malfoy drawled his words, using that damned condescendingly upper-class tone of voice, Hermione could feel her post-orgasm bliss slowly being replaced with white hot blinding rage. By the time he walked out of the Restricted Section, Hermione was shaking with fury. It was one thing for Malfoy to be disappointed in himself for letting his all too important composed and poised veneer slip, but he just took it way too far.

He was not going to get away with this.

Hermione was pissed!


A/N~ Whew! Who needs a glass of water? I know I do! Damn that Malfoy, such a bastard, but so damn irresistible. So what did you think? Was the smut better? I hope you liked it, as I worked super hard on this chapter.

Up next, Draco avoids Hermione, but it doesn’t help much. When lust gets the best of him, he corners Hermione, but as we know, she isn’t too happy with him at the moment. A big fight leads to something else that is huge and neither one can resist. Can anyone guess what that is? And I outlined the rest of my story, so it is looking to be 12 chapters, think you can stick with me that long?

Oh, and appease the review whore (that’s me) and leave a review if you like the story. I am pretty much writing it for you; so naturally, I want to know what you think. Pretty pretty please??? I'll love you forever!

Roberta