Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter Universe. That would be J.K Rowling.

Author's Note: I'm a shameless R/Hr shipper, but I had to write a D/Hr for a contest I was in. This was posted because of Elin's encouragement.

She's like a butterfly in more ways than one. She's soft and she's beautiful, yes. She's hard to catch, and once you have her you'll never want to let go. There is one thing about her that makes her fit the description perfectly, and that is simply what attracts me to her the most. Hermione Granger is just so innocent.

Having been around the block a few times, at age seventeen, I've gotten to know many women. Some of them have been beautiful, others less so. Some of them have been intelligent, but most of them as dumb as the stones that line the walls of the school corridors. I'm very experienced when it comes to certain things, and as I have come to find, so are they.

I'll tell you about the first time I realized that she was who I truly wanted. One evening in late October, Pansy Parkinson had beckoned for me to meet her in the library. Not one to turn down some casual sex, I agreed to meet her there, assuming that she had found some abandoned corner where we could do our business quickly and then I could leave and find better things with which to occupy my time. I was right. In a matter of seconds after I had stepped in the door, Pansy ushered me to a shabby old desk in a dirty, abandoned corner of Hogwarts' immense library. After we had finished shagging, I left her and started walking towards the door, straightening my tie in the process. I was just about to exit, when I caught something from the corner of my eye.

Granger was sitting at a table just to my left. She had her bushy brown hair pulled back into a messy knot on top of her head. Of course, she was surrounded by a bunch of books, but that was nothing unusual. She was talking to Michael Corner, which would make sense because they are both taking Advanced Arithmancy. Weasley was sitting a few chairs down, scowling at Michael. No, nothing unusual going on, except for one thing.

Granger was blushing. She seemed nervous, and what was that look in her eyes? She looked genuinely attracted to Michael Corner. Of course we all know that Michael Corner is a great prat. He, like myself, uses his women to get in their pants and then is done with him. Luckily for him he doesn't have a reputation for it like myself, and can still manage to get a different girl ever weekend. He's a real bastard. Looking at Granger, I noticed for the first time how genuinely innocent she was. The look on her face reminded me of Pansy the first time I put my hand up her shirt back in fourth year. Granger possessed something that all of the girls I had been with as of late did not. She had self-respect, good intentions, and was completely inexperienced. My pants became uncomfortably tighter at the thought.

I watched as Michael pulled up a chair and sat next to her, watched as he kissed her hand. Then I watched as he stared up at her, and I heard him ask her to accompany Hogwarts with him the next weekend. I seethed as I imagined him taking what was mine. Hermione Granger's innocence belonged to me and I'd have been damned before anyone else snatched it away.

By the time the next weekend had arrived, I already knew that I must act fast. I actually stayed back at the castle and contemplated what I was about to do. If my father ever found out that I had…been with a muggle-born, my punishment would not be light. The truth was, as much as I let on about purebloods and keeping the wizarding race pure, I honestly didn't care. Of course, I was proud to be a pureblood wizard, but with age I have come to realize that it doesn't matter all that much. Looking back on the past few years I nearly cringe watching as my father's cruel words come out of my own mouth. I'm stuck with my reputation now, so I might as well get used to it. It would take too much to convince St. Potter and any other's that I may, in fact, actually be human.

Assuming my father never did find out about what was to soon ensue between little Miss Granger and myself, I was ready to go. As with other girls, my irresistible charm and dashing good looks have certainly already drawn her to me, I thought. Truth be told, I had never really spoken with Granger one-on-one before. When I approached her in my suave, cool manner and shocked her with polite, yet intelligent, conversation, I would have her eating out of the palm of my hand. I swear, I must have found her really fucking desirable, because I was pacing around the room waiting for those on the Hogsmeade trip to arrive back at the castle.

I walked down to the entry hall a bit later to find that the trip had ended a bit early for most when Longbottom had managed to accidentally transfigure one of the tables at the Three Broomsticks into a hippopotamus when he left his wand in his pocket. I was angry that I had missed Granger's entrance, and proceeded to go upstairs and strut towards my dormitory. I washed shocked at who I met on my way there.

Granger was walking towards me very fast, with her head down and tears noticeably streaking down her cheeks. Normally I just would have kept on walking, but not this time. I did something that I never would have done before. I reached out my arm and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her.

"You know what, Malfoy?" She rounded on me, trying to mask a sniffle. "I have been taking crap from you and many others of the male gender for the past seven years, and I'm tired of it. Call me a mudblood. Tease me about being a teacher's pet, I honestly don't care. Say what you want to me, because you hate me and I know it, and I dislike you all the same, so just say it." She gasped slightly at the end of her rant.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sounding concerned. The look on her face changed from one of extreme annoyance to one of complete puzzlement. She stared at me, as if scrutinizing every last stubble on my chin.

"You really mean it, don't you?" she asked, still looking slightly bewildered.

"I do," I said. It wasn't about lust anymore. Here she was, standing in front of me, completely hurt and vulnerable, and I knew that perhaps I saw her in a different light. Maybe I cared for her more than I had thought. "That prat Corner tried to get in your pants, eh?"

"How'd you know?"

"We men think alike."

She seemed to be intrigued that she and I could carry on a normal conversation. I saw a glint in her eye and something told me that she would be a bit more daring that usual. I was right.

"And you've thought of getting in my pants, have you?" she asked mischievously.

"Why yes, I have," I replied slyly. Then I kissed her.

One night, months later, when I took Hermione Granger's innocence, was the night my life changed forever. I had won my prize, but found that I valued it for much different reasons than the ones for which I had originally wanted it. Now, when I call her my butterfly she thinks it's just because she's beautiful. I plan to keep it that way.

Le Fin