Ugly

A/N: The song for this chapter is "The moment I said it" by Imogen Heap because it has an ethereal quality to it that I love. Kinda like this scene.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!!!!

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Hermione Granger is walking to the Great Hall for dinner when Melinda Brokhart, a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, taps her on the shoulder in the hall outside the charms classroom.

“Oh, I'm so glad I found you, I have a few questions about the patrolling schedule.”

As the rather pretty girl launches into a tale of woe about boyfriends and dates and absolutely needing the following Wednesday night off, Hermione is making an honest effort at pretending to listen. It is not at all common for the Head Girl to neglect her duties or a student in need – no matter how frivolous the problem may be. However, tonight, Hermione's thoughts are a million miles away.

In all honesty, they have been for days. Finding Draco Malfoy in the bathroom that fateful night had been one thing. Finding him in her bed the next morning had been something completely different. In much the same way that he had slid out of her room the other day, he now seems to have slithered right into her thoughts, the nasty little bugger. And now, unable to remove him from her head, Hermione has fallen back on what she does best; using her brain. As efficiently as she works through a particularily difficult logarithm, she has been compartmentalize Draco Malfoy; faults against strengths, pros against cons, morals...or lack thereof. Yet not everything about him, Hermione finds, can be separated into good or bad.

The lines of his character seem to blur as completely as the shadows in the halls at night. It is no secret that manipulation, which isn't necessarily a bad trait, seems to come as naturally as breathing to him. How else has he upheld such a important social standing in Slytherin house? He is also in possession of a scathingly quick wit, yet appears intent on using it to hurt others. He's overtly charismatic, carrying an air of superiority, no matter what his internal struggles may be. Hermione briefly wonders if he is aware of his own presence.

In all her scrutiny, only one thing seems to stand out to her; under all of it, he must be suffering, battling with some sort of internal demons. What they are, she has yet to figure out. He is an anomaly, Hermione decides, a puzzle, a challenge to figure out. And if there is anything Hermione loves in the world, it is a good challenge.

Suddenly, as if her thoughts have formed themselves into reality, her eyes pick up on a head of blond hair – something they've been doing instinctively lately – and she watches as Draco Malfoy strides purposely towards her.

Hermione has a brief moment of panic as she remembers Melinda Brokhart standing beside her. It is not completely uncommon for Malfoy and herself to be seen talking to each other in the halls. After all, there are certain responsibilities and duties that come along with the title of Head Boy and Girl. But even then, any interaction is characteristically strained and short. They had much preferred leaving detailed notes for each other, leaving out the face to face interactions all together. Even having shared a common room for several months it is remarkable how little they'd seen of one another, albeit with much purposeful avoidance.

They haven't been this close to one another since the eventful night in her room, and the feelings that well up at the sight of the tall Slytherin standing in front of her are jarring. Hermione is undoubtedly a smart girl and she had certainly expected awkwardness, maybe even indifference. But the sheer magnitude of confusion and longing are enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.

Draco, for his part, has barely noticed the Ravenclaw girl. His piercing gray eyes are locked onto the smaller witch with a startling intensity.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you."

She doesn't miss the frantic, desperate undertone to his low voice, nor the fact that he has used her first name. Neither it seems, has Melinda. She is regarding the situation with extreme curiosity, her gaze shifting back and forth between them.

It is with much amazement when Draco Malfoy reaches out and takes her hand into his. It is surprisingly hot, almost burning. And before she can resist - though she isn't sure she ever intended to - he is pulling her off down the hallway.

She sends one futile glance over her shoulder at Melinda and then turns to look up at the young man dragging her down the hall.

"Malfoy, where are we going?"

As they turn a corner, he glances briefly down at her. "I don't know."

They walk in silence for several minutes, the only sound being the sharp tap tap of their shoes echoing off the stone hallways. About halfway to nowhere, Draco stops abruptly and pulls her to the left where there is a small alcove, concealed behind a red velvet drape.

And all of a sudden his lips are against hers and they are hungry and demanding and she is unprepared for the warmth and feeling his actions evoke in her.

More from a natural instinct then an understanding of exactly what she's doing, her lips start to move against his. Much like his earlier words, his lips are almost desperate against hers and his hands are caressing her neck and shoulders and getting lost in her hair. It couldn't be more torrid if they were in an abandoned classroom or - heaven forbid - a broom closet.

Draco breaks away from her for some much needed air and she is surprised by the sudden feeling of loss; like part of her has been painfully ripped away. She has an urge to reach up and touch her tingling lips but before she can regain her bearings his burning lips return to her skin and he is doing something to her neck with his tongue that is entirely too pleasant. Despite herself, Hermione can't help but moan lightly in response.

Draco takes this as encouragement and wraps an arm around the small of her back, pulling her closer. The world seems to blur around them into nothing but feelings, caresses, lips and heat. It occurs to Hermione that it's almost as if he can't quite get enough of her; as he kisses down her neck and pulls her closer against his frame still. Her cheeks redden at the thought, though in the dark corner of the alcove she's doubtful that they are visible at all

With a gasp for air, they simultaneously break away from one another. The air seems to flow around them with a strange kind of energy and she looks up to see that he is staring intently at her. There are so many emotions playing in his gray eyes; she recognizes the desire, the passion, and also a strong veil of confusion but there are others, buried so much deeper that she can't even begin to decipher them.

On a whim, she stands on her very tiptoes - he is at least a head taller then her - and leans slowly forward and watches him watching her. Ever so slowly, meeting his eyes and waiting for any and all emotions that may pass through them - wanting to see what his reaction will be - she closes the last few inches between them and touches her lips to his. It's only the barest of touches and then Hermione leans back on her heals.

She looks up into his face and into his lost gray eyes and as if, without words, is asking the question "so, what now?" And in response he swoops down and catches her lips with his again. It is as much of answer to her question as anything else.

This time his kisses are slow and sensual as if he is finally reassured that she is fully aware of the fact that this is Draco Malfoy she is kissing, and will not frantically push him away. He dips his tongue into her mouth and she responds in turn, running her own along his bottom lip.

She doesn't protest as he unbuttons her school robes and then her blouse, running his hands across the soft skin of her stomach and down her hips, then back up again to brush the underside of her uncharacteristically lacy bra.

Feeling slightly like he has the upper hand, Hermione summons her Gryffindor nature and bravely makes her own advances. Starting at his waist she slowly runs her small hands up under his shirt and across his chest and shoulders, exhilarating in the feeling of the hard ridges beneath her fingers. With a raged exhale of breath, Draco pulls back from her for a moment and tugs his shirt over his head, allowing her more access to his skin. As she reaches out to touch his chest, he shivers under her touch and she suddenly becomes self-conscious.

"Should I stop?" she asks, worried that she's doing something wrong.

"God, no...Don't ever stop," he grounds out, his voice low and husky in her ear. He runs his hands down her back and hips, letting them come to rest when he firmly cups her rear. With a gasp of surprise, he lifts her off the ground, forcing her to wrap her legs around his hips. Pressed up against him so intimately she is suddenly acutely aware of just how aroused he is.

With this realization comes another; she is completely unprepared for this. Though her body is reacting violently to his touch, even more so as he lightly nips at her collarbone, her mind is a tangle of fears and trepidation.

“Malfoy,” she says, but it comes out as more of a low moan as she arches up when he grinds his pelvis into her own. “ pl-please...put me down.”

For several seconds, he doesn't seem to have heard her, but as her words finally sink in, he stops and pulls back. He lowers her, surprisingly gently and she slides down between the wall and his chest, until her feet lightly touch the floor.

Seconds later, Draco has leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of her head against the cold stone walls, successfully trapping her between his pale arms without actually touching her. He sighs, long and loud and looks down at her through his silver bangs, his face inches from her own. An odd moment of silence passes between them, and then simply unable to stop such an ingrown habit, Draco smirks. And this time, it boils Hermione's blood for an entirely different reason.

She's mulling over her decision to be put down when his voice breaks through her foggy state of mind. “You know, you could call me Draco, if you'd like.”

She's never seen someone smile so suggestively, and her cheeks instantly flame brightly. She turns her gaze to the side self-consciously, unable to meet his eyes.

However, only then does she notice the inside of his forearm, placed so closely to her face. It is a sickly collage of healing cuts and scars, bright marks of varying shades of red and white.

She gasps quietly and reaches out to pull his arm down, into her grasp. She holds it lightly and he doesn't react as the inspects the damage, running her small fingers slowly over the crisscrossing scars, as if memorizing their path. Draco closes his eyes and sighs, loosing himself momentarily in the gentle caresses.

"I can't get rid of them," he says quietly after several minutes of silence," I don't know any healing spells."

Though the statement is simple, they both know there is a hidden darkness behind the words, something left unsaid; I've only learned dark magic. But the fragile atmosphere they have made for themselves won't allow such words to be spoken out loud.

"I wish you would stop," she whispers, and he barely hears her, though he is only inches from her lips.

It isn't condescending or harsh; just a plead. Somehow the world outside of the alcove seems long gone. In this moment, they live in a peaceful unity where petty prejudices about blood and purity seem to be a thing of the past. There is no fear of pain, or the chastise of a parent, or the impending danger of the Dark Lord. It is a balance so fragile that Draco dare not move in fear of breaking it. Or so he tells himself, because in a small part of his mind he wonders if his reluctance to move might have less to do with fear and just a little more to do with the warm feeling in his chest and the light floral sent coming from the bushy head of the girl in his arms.

But like the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and several minutes later he's watching as Hermione is bustling around the alcove collecting her fallen clothing. He sighs quietly, reaching down to grab his shirt and slides it easily over his head. He straightens to watch Hermione as she struggles with the buttons of her blouse. Her hands are shaking badly, and this time Draco would wager it's not from fear or anger.

He moves forward and brushes her hands gently away, swiftly pushing the rest of the buttons through their small holes, his knuckles lightly brushing the swell of her breasts. With amusement, he notes that this causes her to blush.

She leans down to pick up her cloak from the floor and turns, pushing the drape back. She glances right, then left, as if checking the road for traffic before moving to step forward from their hide-y-hole.

With a small jolt of surprise, she feels as Malfoy causally grabs ahold of her hand and slides his fingers through her own. She turns and gazes up at him in shock at such a blatantly affectionate gesture and he's looking down at her with a raised eyebrow, as if daring her to question his actions.

So, Hermione decides she won't. In unison they step forward, making their way in silence, back towards the dinning hall.

It is Draco who breaks the silence first.

"You don't passionately snog in alcoves with any other boys do you?" he asks.

"Oh, " Hermione's eyes widen in embarrassment, "Oh! Of course I don't! This is the - uh... first time."

"Splendid," he quips and his hand seems to tighten around hers almost possessively, "I was hoping you didn't and I'd like that it stayed that way."

They laps back into into a strangely comfortable silence and nothing else is said on the matter, but Draco's meaning is still quite clear. Hermione tries to picture him saying the words "Granger, will you go out with me?" or perhaps "Hermione, be my girlfriend?" and almost giggles at the thought. It seems entirely un-Dracolike.


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End of fifth chapter


A/N: Hahahah omg, I'm gonna pee my pants. Literally and figuratively! I actually have to pee so bad right now. I've been sitting here for like that last two hours trying to finish this up. I'm sorry about the end. This part; “So she doesn't and in unison they step forward, making their way, in silence, to god knows where, possibly for some more tonsil hockey." Yea, that's just me being up at 3 in the morning and getting WAY too restless and trying to get this chapter OVERWITH. Oh, and the “hide-y-hole” LOL that was also a burst of stupidness. I'm definitely going to be fixing those areas up at a later date, I am just way to tired and lazy right now. Which is why they're there in the first place :P I also found the beginning rather stupid and hard to write with all the changing of tenses!! This present tense thinking is starting to drive me nuts! ARG anyway, REVIEW!! PLEASEE!!!!

A/N: So I changed some of the stupid crap, but i kept hide-y-hole cause it makes me giggle.