Title: Skin

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series obviously belongs to its author and any attempts to twist her world is due to the utmost respect, esteem and admiration I have for JKRowling and her work. That being said, enjoy.

He would never understand how Hermione Granger managed to get such perfect skin.

They were in their sixth year, and the stress from trying to kill Dumbledore so he could save his and his family's necks was getting to him and his skin. No matter the potions he tried, no matter the spells—always, always that damn pimple on his chin or neck! To think that he, a Malfoy, the purest of purebloods, would suffer from acne when that damn mudblood was out there looking so—

Fresh—

Radiant—

Almost—

But she was not beautiful, he told himself, as he kept himself company during those long lonely hoursin the Room of Requirement. She was neither beautiful nor special and the only reason she had such perfect skin had to be simply because she had no worries, always hanging out with Potter and the Slug Club.

And her hair was still horrendous, he told himself, as he ran his fingers through his perfect blond hair. Messy, frizzy and a very ordinary shade of mousy brown.

"Granger, you have the messiest hair," he whispered absentmindedly. "And you're so obsessively neurotic about rules and order and it doesn't even suit you."

That was the first time he would talk to her in those nights by himself.

Winter came and went and he was beginning to grow anxious. Absolutely nothing worked; why would this old man not croak? He had better chances praying such an ancient wizard died in his sleep than he did with any of his complex plans. Heck, he had better chances of killing Dumbledore by somehow getting him to the Astronomy Tower and pushing him. Draco Malfoy was stupid stupid just a stupid young child, and the Dark Lord knew it, and the Dark Lord was cruel.

And if fate could just, mercifully, at least grant him at least the vanity of perfect skin—

He now refused to look in the mirror. Hideous. He was hideous! The zits had multiplied due to the stress and maybe the lack of showering but he had to devote all his time to this mission if he wanted to live past this summer. And still, sometimes he would pause. Sometimes he would look. And there sat Granger in class, always the annoying bitch, always nosy, and always perfect skin. Perfect face.

Her eyes were a very warm shade of brown, he'd noticed. Almost black, but not quite. When the light hit her during their Transfiguration class, you could see the clear distinction between the brown of her eyes and the black of her pupils. He'd never thought this about such a common eye color, but hers were almost beautiful in their warmth.

Almost, but not quite. And her hair was still hideous.

"I wouldn't call you beautiful even if you were a pureblood, Granger."

"Hermione Granger," he said to himself one day as he looked away from the broken Vanishing Cabinet. "It's such a disturbing name isn't it? Hermione. Who on Earth names their child that? Muggles, I bet.

"And then the last name, Granger. It's so ordinary, you can't even say it elegantly. Granger. GRANGE-er. No, I can't say it. I'm a freaking Malfoy and even I can't say 'Granger' elegantly."

He had been this close today to actually going up to the mudblood and asking her about her skin care. This close, but he hadn't done it. It was an impulse due to his sleep deprivation, and a Malfoy still had his pride.

"Pansy's still attracted to me. You can't say that about Ron Weasley, can you HURRRR-mione GHRAN-ger? Your name is stupid, Hermione Granger. You're stupid."

He saw her walking alone on his way to the library. She was alone more often these days, he noticed. Looks like the Gryffindors had had a feud of sorts. Probably love troubles, he snorted. Maybe the Weasley had decided to marry Potter.

Surely enough, she was headed to the library as well.

"Can't get laid, can you, Granger?" he muttered to himself as he always did.

Sleep deprived and with hunger pangs, he walked behind her. Only so many hours before the library closed. Only so much time before he could read up on Vanishing Cabinets before he had to go back to working on one.

"On the Enchantment of Magical Objects, Volume four?" the librarian asked. Draco always forgot her name. "I'm sorry dear, that book is in circulation, but I'm afraid somebody else has taken it. Would you like to make a reservation for it?"

He wanted to kill! "No," he did NOT want to make a reservation! You-Know-Who was after him and his family and he needed that book right now, before he died!

There was something—this weird obsession—that instantly pointed to Granger. Hermione Granger, with the perfect face and the ugly hair. Surely she intended to cause his death. Maybe dance on his grave, and wear his own hair as a pretty wig! He imagined her copulating with the Weasley with his hair on. He was being delusional, but it was disgusting.

He went up to her.

Sure enough, the fucking book was in her hands.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she hissed quietly when she noticed him looking at her. Ever the rule-abiding witch, the perfect little saint.

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He stared.

The world was moving.

"Goodness—Are you alright?" Her face had changed, and it took him a moment to find that he had been holding the table for support.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "I just need that book. I have to study."

She examined him hesitantly. Doubt. Worry? "Are you—Is this for a test? For Charms? I already studied, but that isn't for another two weeks. Do you always take your examinations so seriously?"

"Yes," he breathed. A thousand times yes, when it's the Dark Lord who's doing the evaluation.

"Well… I just need to read up on—Hold on, this will take only a moment. I just thought I'd read something here that I think I'd find useful for—Well, I don't really think I should tell you, but I just found it fascinating, it's so convenient—"

The insane quantity of her words was nauseating him. He could feel the world moving, and suddenly he didn't have the strength to handle it all.

He sat down.

On her table.

She noticed, and shut up.

"It will take just a minute," she whispered, as she stared at him almost in awe. He didn't even bother looking at her this time. He was just glad she'd shut up.

But she didn't shut up. "I don't think that test is anything to worry about," she carried on, as she gently but quickly turned the pages of the book. "And I think you're actually quite good at Charms. Maybe now I can see it's because of your level of dedication, but Professor Flitwick is actually a very understanding professor and this particular subject seemed easy enough. I just came back to this book because I like to read the entire book, not just the designated subjects, because I think it gives you a better understanding of the entire subject, and what the author was trying to say. Anyway, I came back to this book because I found certain enchantments interesting. Did you know you could make some sort of link between two objects like, say, a sock, and an entire suitcase? I was thinking if maybe I could test the power of this spell and—"

"Granger, for the love of God!" Draco thought he was dying. "Do you ever hear yourself? Are you ever even aware of how incredibly annoying you are when you talk so much?"

Her cheeks colored, she looked down. "I am aware actually. I just—I find it all so fascinating. I never did grow up with magic."

He took his time to appreciate the silence. It was wonderful and energizing. So many words had almost drowned him.

"They really should reconsider letting mudbloods into Hogwarts," he said absentmindedly. "The year we get a hundred Hermione Grangers, we're done for."

"Excuse me, but I'm the best student of our year," she retorted, her cheeks getting even redder with anger. "And I'm doing you a favor by skimming my research, I could keep this book all week if I wanted to!"

"No!" Draco gasped in horror. Would this witch really be so cruel? Would she doom him to his death? He had to fix that Vanishing Cabinet and kill Dumbledore!

"Yes," she said smugly. "But I won't do it, fortunately for you, because unlike you I am a nice person, and I believe in kindness towards others."

They spent the following minutes in silence. Hermione, skimming through pages, and Draco, pondering. This was a very surreal experience, he thought. He'd never been this close to Granger without a fist to his face. Once she was quiet, he had to admit that it was sort of… nice. Sure she never brushed her hair, but otherwise she was quite nice to look at. Her skin looked even smoother up front and the soft color of her cheeks was especially flattering when he considered the darkness of her eyes and hair.

His mind wandered elsewhere and he wondered just how she would act if she knew he'd taken to mentally undressing her at night for his release. Not because he found her attractive, he told himself, but because she had grown to be quite familiar to the corners of his mind. She was the only person he ever thought about during those lonely nights in the Room of Requirement, aside from the occasional Potter, Dumbledore and of course the Dark Lord. Of course he would take to masturbating to thoughts of the woman he thought of most often. Nothing to do with attraction, just convenience.

Yet he suddenly felt his pants getting tighter in the presence of the woman he undressed every night. He had taken her virginity a dozen times, although sometimes she was not a virgin…

And she always, always enjoyed it.

No, he would not touch himself now in public and in front of Granger, he informed his genitals. He was not perverted. Masturbation was a means to combat stress, nothing more. He certainly didn't want to fuck Granger in the library, on top of that ancient book, and then come all over her face. He didn't really want to spank her, tease her, suck her breasts…

He looked at her chest absentmindedly.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" He nearly jumped once startled out of his reverie. What was he doing? Oh God. Hermione Granger had just caught him staring at her chest.

"Thinking," he answered as truthfully and smoothly as possible. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything," Hermione said cautiously as she seemed to examine him. Shit shit shit. He hadn't done it on purpose!

Hermione Granger was NOT attractive!

"But if you must know, I think I'm done now. Though I think I need—Nevermind I'll check in the library a few days from now."

He nodded curtly.

"You don't know how much you've helped me, Granger."