AN: Just thought I'd mention quickly, a Whitlam&Four is my version of Mills&Boon, ok? Just thought you should know. Oh, and I guess...there is femmeslash near the end. In a manner of speaking. Because, you know. It's Draco. So confusing. :D

-

Damn. I just realised that if this is only a day thing…the date with Laura just ain't happening. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I was really looking forward to that. Well, only one thing for it, I suppose. I'm just going to have to do a very quick romancing of young Laura and hope that she's the type of girl to give it up quickly. Lesbians do that, right?

"Hey, Po- Harry…Harry!" I yell, waving my hand to get the great lump's attention.

He comes over to me, scratching his nose. And he takes his sweet time about it, too. Honestly, what is it with famous people? Do they just think that politeness does not apply to them? I mean really. You would think that he would have the decency to be polite to his best friend and hurry his lazy arse up when I am obviously dying for information. Stupid messy haired pillock.

"Yeah, Hermione? What is it?" he asks me, when he has finally reached me. I know his legs are short and stubby, but come on. Five minutes to cross five metres of library floor? Appropriate, I think not.

"You know that girl who I was talking to at breakfast this morning? Laura?"

Potter grins a little awkwardly. Oh god, he doesn't have a stupid little crush on her, does he? Anyway, he doesn't have a chance. Not with me, sweet talking extraordinaire, gorgeous as all hell Draco Malfoy, around. And, you know. Her being a lesbian and all. Unless she's bi? I glare surreptitiously at him. Not an easy task when one is looking straight at the person and they are looking right back. But he's dafter than a piece of sticky tape, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe.

"Laura Ackley? Sixth year? Blonde hair?" asks tall, dark and dumb-as-shit.

I roll my eyes despite myself. It's difficult not to when you are around boy wonder. He's so idiotic.

"Yes, her. D'you know if she has a class at the moment?"

Potter grins condescendingly. I hate him. I hate him and all of his offspring that he will, unfortunately, one day spawn. I wish he would go die in a very large and painful hole. With spikes.

"It's lunchtime, Hermione." Potter says, his eyes practically grinning along with the rest of him.

I knew that.

"I know, Harry." I say scathingly, trying to think of a reason for asking that without coming off dumber than Potter. Not that that should be too difficult. I could just say something about teacups and I'd still be guaranteed three times smarter a comment than Potter would have made in the same situation.

"I just meant, is she being tutored?" I say brilliantly. I am brilliant. Because I am me. Therefore I am brilliant.

Potter looks confused. I'll bet he's never even heard of tutoring. He needs it, of course. Maybe a few extra thousand years of tutoring sessions might make him at about the intelligence level of a well trained quill. It could happen. Miracles sometimes occur.

"Isn't she a Ravenclaw?" Potter asks, raking a hand through his hair.

"Of course she bloody well isn't!" I exclaim, wanting to tear his hair out. I'm wasting precious lech-ing seconds!

"Why do you say that?" asks Potter, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that I'm glaring fit to burst.

"Because," I say in a slow voice, as if I'm speaking to a child (which I am, practically), "she was sitting at the Gryffindor table. I.e. she is in Gryffindor."

You revolting, gormless man-whore. I add mentally.

"That doesn't necessarily make her a Gryffindor," Potter points out in his nauseatingly reasonable voice. If I stabbed him to death, would anyone notice? I could just say he'd fallen onto his own knife in the bathroom and people would believe me. Even if there were thirty stab wounds. That his reputation of being the dumbest thing since sliced white bread could even explain that away as an accident on his part is, I think, quite telling.

"And why not, pray tell?" I ask, feeling a strange urge to wring something. Preferably Potter's neck.

"Because there are always table swaps in the morning, Hermione. You should know that. The only people who don't swap are the Slytherins." He sits down heavily in a chair opposite me, apparently overcome by the effort of stringing together three sentences at the same time.

"Just, just…"

I myself, I would like to point out, am overcome by annoyance at this prat before me. I take a deep breath and centre myself.

"Just tell me. Do you know where she is?" I ask him calmly. He shrugs, not really looking at me.

"Dunno. Could be anywhere, couldn't she? Ask one of her friends, maybe. They're over at the door."

And with this last, very unhelpful comment I would just like to point out, I give him one last glare and stalk off to the doorway of the library.

Three girls are leaning against the doorframe, all long legs and flicking hair. I try not to drool as one of the girls (dark hair, short skirt, legs like a baby giraffe, arse like a fucking peach) leans over and picks up a fallen book.

"Can we help you?" one of the other girls asks, seeing me standing there like an utter tool. I walk over, smiling genially.

"Hi!" I start (genius, Draco, genius), shifting my books to the other arm. They watch me politely, the dark haired girl now upright and smiling at me. Maybe I could take her instead. No, bad Draco, bad. We want Laura, first. Then you may try as much as you like with the Girl Who Has a Nice Arse.

"You're friends with Laura Ackley, aren't you?" I ask, and the girls relax a little.

"Yeah, we are. Oh! Sorry, how rude. I'm Grace," says one of the blonde girls, introducing herself. I smile, pushing curly hair out of my eyes.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hermione."

"Danni," says the Girl Who Has a Nice Arse. She grins at me, and then winks. Hm. Might be in there, too. Lovely.

"Hey," says one of the quieter girls, a small blonde with a rather nice rack. "I'm Quin. Nice to meet you."

"So, what's up?" asks Danni, her eyes glinting a little as she leans onto the doorframe.

"Oh, I just needed to speak to Laura about something," I say, hoping they don't see through my rather lame excuse. Grace smirks.

"Is that what you young things are calling it these days?" she says cheekily, and Danni laughs. Quin smiles faintly. I flush. Honestly, since when did little sixth year girls make me so stuttery and…un-Draco?

"Heh. Yeah. Erm. So, do you know where she is?"

Grace grins at me and points vaguely over her shoulder.

"I think she went back to the common room, actually," she says apologetically.

"So…what house are you in?" I ask, still unsure as to whether or not I should take Potter's word as gospel. I.e. I wouldn't trust him with my mangiest sock.

"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw," Danni says, pointing at herself, then at the other two girls. "Respectively," she adds, grinning impishly. I find myself smiling back.

"Right. So that would make Laura…?"

Danni puts a hand to her heart dramatically. "And here was I thinking you were interested only in becoming our friends. I feel so used!"

She breaks off into giggles and then looks back up at me. What a cutie.

"Oh well. I suppose we'll just have to let you go. She's in Gryffindor. Same as me."

"And me," I add, giving her the full Malfoy grin. She nearly swoons. Alright, she doesn't, but she winks at me again.

"Might see you around again, then!"

"Might do," I say, waving at the girls as I walk out. That went rather well. Rather well indeed. Now to find our young and nubile Laura and hope she gives it up quickly. Heh.

-

"Gallimaufry," I say as I reach the portrait. The fat lady ignores me and chatters on to some wrinkled old tart in the picture beside her. I tap my foot and glare at her.

"Gallimaufry," I say again, louder this time. They are purposefully ignoring me! Those…those…paintings!

"Excuse me!" I yell, waving a hand in the fat one's painted face. She turns to me, finally, glaring.

"Well I never, Violet," she says sniffily. "How rude."

"Oh, yes. And you aren't rude at all, not doing your bloody job!" I exclaim, my hands on my hips. I think Granger's body has taken over with several gestures such as this one.

Portraits! Talking back! How dare they! Don't they know who I am? Well…ok, so they might not know who I am. But honestly. How much rudeness am I meant to deal with in one day? It is beyond me.

Big, pink and sniffy makes a horrified noise at my curse. The wrinkly thing just curls her lip up in distaste. Yeah, yeah, so I'm in Granger's body. I know it's disgusting to look at. But I'm in here too, so for god's sake, give me some respect!

"Gallimaufry," I repeat, glaring them into submission. Do as I tell you! Do as I tell you! Do as I…

Oh, good. They've opened the portrait for me.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" the fat one asks as I clamber in. I snort becomingly.

"Thank you for what? Interrupting a good lech?" I yell over my shoulder. The portrait closes with a thud.

Oops. May have said that thing about a lech a little too loud. Some Gryffindor chick who I'm pretty sure I should know is staring at me, an eyebrow raised.

"What?" I ask, acting as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Which it isn't. You know, apart from the fact that I'm in a Gryffindor room attempting to get with a Gryffindor sixth year girl while in the body of a Gryffindor seventh year girl who, let's not forget, is one of my worst enemies and scum of the earth. So, nothing weird there at all.

The brunette shrugs and turns back to snogging someone on the couch (I think it's the Weasel, which is quite revolting. Who would want to snog that?) while I look around for Laura.

"Hey! Hermione?"

I look over at one of the desks in the corner of the common room. Ah, it's Laura. My lucky day. Well, actually it isn't. It has been rather a horrid and frightening day. But anyway. I walk over and slide into a chair opposite her.

"Hey, Laura! Didn't forget me, did you?"

She smiles, one of her cheeks dimpling a little, and looks down at her homework.

"Having fun with your homework?" I ask teasingly. She looks up at me again and laughs.

"Oh yes, it's incredibly fun. I don't know why I've been putting it off for so long."

I smile and lean back in my chair, my hands cradling the back of my head.

"Yeah, I'm sure it must be thrilling. My standpoint on homework is 'if you can be not doing it, then don't do it.' I think it works wonders. Not for my grades, of course, but quite well for my extra curricular activities."

I wink indecently at her and she giggles.

"But you're always studying! Every time I see you, you're writing furiously, biting your lip, that little wrinkle in your nose…" she coughs self-consciously and I grin.

"Ah, but who says I'm studying? It is entirely possible that I'm actually writing incredibly lewd and smutty works of fiction, and the little wrinkle in my nose," I wink at her again and she blushes, then grins, "is really just me trying not to make a scene as I get all hot and bothered by what I'm writing. And we all know what biting your lip means," I say very seriously, putting on a very scholarly tone and looking at her over imaginary spectacles.

"It's a sign of a very passionate person. It's true. I read it in a Whitlam&Four once."

She giggles again and then looks at me, her eyes shining.

"Do you really write that kind of stuff?" she asks, leaning forward a little in her seat.

I put on a face that shows I am thinking quite deeply.

"I might. But I think I'll definitely need some more experience in certain things to write the one I'm thinking of now."

She makes a small sound in the bottom of her throat and then looks at me closely, excitement shining in her face.

"What are you thinking of writing?" she asks breathily, her fingers tracing the wood of the desk between us subconsciously. It's all very arousing. I grin at her.

"Well, I was thinking of writing a story about two girls who have just met each other," I smile at her, and she breathes a little faster – I can see it, she's almost panting. It's fantastic.

"And they're talking together and they realise that maybe what they want isn't a friendship. Maybe what they want is something else entirely. And because they're somewhere very public it doesn't seem like the right place…"

"Would you like to come up to my room?" Laura interrupts me, her cheeks flushed a little. A strand of hair falls into her face and she blows it out of her eyes. I feel like punching the air and singing some kind of victory song along the lines of 'I'm going to have hot lesbian sex, I'm going to have hot lesbian sex, and you aren't, nah, nah, nah, nah!' but I am much too mature to do that (and also it would bring the mood down a little) so I merely smile and let her take my hand.

-

And you can just imagine the rest of it for yourselves, you dirty minded people. Oh, no, wait, you can't! Because I'm going to tell you exactly what happened! Because it was hot as!

-

When we reach her dormitory, it is with great relief. If I had been in my body at that moment and not Granger's, well, let me tell you, I don't know if I could have been able to last that long. Not that I would be even having the experience. But still.

Laura closes the door behind her, looking up at me from under dark lashes. She grabs the front of my school shirt, pulling me down to a bed near the end of the dormitory, her eyes on mine the whole time. And then she is unbuttoning the soft cotton shirt, pushing the edges of fabric away from each other and breathing in, her blue eyes wide. I remember that I hadn't worn a bra today, and silently thank heaven for it.

I just stare at her, my breath catching in my throat. You can't possibly imagine how different it is, to be a girl with a girl. A boy with a girl is so very different, and it isn't just a physical difference. I know that my mind is still mine, but something…untamed comes out. It's just a bodily reaction, but your mind reacts so differently to it. And now I'm experiencing it for the first time, and by hell is it nice.

Laura unknots my tie, pulling it off in one sleek movement, and letting it fall to the floor. Then she pulls my shirt fully off and her hands are running over my stomach, and somehow – she manages to remove clothing as though she were a highly skilled pickpocket – my skirt is gone as well. I am left standing in Granger's silky underwear, which, I realise, are slightly wet. Funny that I should experience that.

Her hand cups my breast, and I moan lightly, pulling her into my chest and kissing her gently. Laura bites my lip and then licks the slowly swelling edge. I pulse my tongue into her mouth and she giggles a little into my mouth.

Then I have pulled her shirt from her shoulders, and I just look at her. She is all bronze and silk with the sunlight coming through the window, and I unclip her bra carefully. She smiles up at me through a curtain of blonde hair, her blue eyes flashing as she pulls me into another kiss. Our breasts rub together and I feel a heat rise between my legs. Laura pushes me onto the bed, climbing over me, laughing and smiling, and I pull her down, my hands on her shoulders as we kiss. Her legs straddle my waist, and, still kissing me, she lets her fingers wander down slowly to the waistband of my underwear.

"Yeah?" she asks, breaking away to look at me. I can't speak, but I nod. She grins again, and her fingers push the silk away from my skin. I arch up into her cupped hand, and she kisses me again, her other hand working at my raised nipple. Just as her fingers brush against me, a slamming door makes us fall apart, pulling the sheets up to our necks.

We both look at the door, twin rabbits stuck in the headlights. And then Danni is wandering into the room, an apple in her hand, humming tunelessly. She halts as she sees us, our hair mussed, our cheeks flushed, and our lips stained and swollen. Not to mention the clothes strewn all over the otherwise spotless floor (what is it with women and cleanliness?) and the fact that we are both quite obviously naked. There is no way in hell that she will not guess what has happened.

"Oh," says Danni, and she backs away, her hand reaching blindly for the doorknob, her eyes not leaving us. I bite my lip, a nervous laugh trying to escape. Well, I can definitely say I've never been in this situation before.

"Louis was…uh, looking for you," Danni says, and Laura seems to be able to speak again.

"Um, we were just-"

Danni shakes her head, turning away and opening the door.

"Yeah, I think I'm perfectly aware of what you were 'just'."

As soon as the door closes, Laura and I turn to each other, mirror images of horror on our faces. And then we are holding each other again, laughing so hard it hurts. I will not ever do this again, but it was definitely an experience.

-

AN: Heehhe. And for all of those smutlovers out there who are DISTRESSED by Danni interrupting, I just think I should tell you that I couldn't qute stand to do it. After all, this is a Dramione fic first and foremost, and we can't have young Laura taking Draco's attention COMPLETELY away. But I did think that we had to have at least one scene where one or the other tries sex. Because really, if you're in the opposite sex's body, surely that would be an experience you'd need to try? Right? Just me? Ok. :D

Please review!

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