Postmodernist writers try to break every rule of the traditional writing style. In the following story you'll find different plots. Try to piece them together in any way you like. Or leave them as they are. It's very subjective and depends on the reader themselves.

***

Hermione was sitting in the library, twiddling a quill between her fingers. It was unbearably hot outside and even inside Hogwarts where it usually was rather chilly and cool, it was sticky and definitely too warm.

Again she tried to concentrate her thoughts on the book lying in front of her. She had been trying to take notes for about half an hour now – evidently without success.

***

Draco walked up the hallway which lead to the library. Despite the weather he had to finish his essay for Transfiguration. Damn that horrible McGonagall, that woman really knew how to spoil a weekend.

As he entered the room he immediately spotted the girl sitting idly at on of the tabled. Doing nothing but twirling a quill lazily in her hand. That was so unlike the Hermione Granger he knew.

***

With a sneer he sat down right next to her. There were so many empty tables in the library. Nobody except for the two of them was there, not even Mme Pince. She eyed him suspiciously out of the corner of her eyes, but pretended not to notice him. What did he want?

***

He walked towards her, then passed her, watching her intently. Her brown eyes were locked with his for a second as he took a seat at a table a couple of rows behind her. Draco hadn't even greeted her with his usually oh-I-am-so-superior-smirk, let alone howled one of his usual insults at her. She frowned, then turned back to her book, quill and still empty scroll of parchment.

***

Why did he have to sit right next to her? His deep grey eyes seemed to burn her, their look exposing her soul to his heart and mind.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

***

She looked so innocent. No, she didn't only look like it, she was innocent. Pure goodness and naivety. He could see that she hadn't even begun to take notes. Maybe she was lost in thought, just like him? Maybe she was even thinking about him?

With a sigh he rummaged through his bag, taking out a quill and his half-finished essay. He didn't have time to give a damn about that mudblood.

***

What would it feel like to hold her close? To touch her? Only once in his life her skin had touched his and that was when she had slapped him hard across his face. After all those years, he could still feel the burning sensation her hand had sent through his body.

***

Those magnificent, gorgeous grey eyes. She'd never get rid of the thoughts she had about him. His imagine kept hunting her night and day. How she wished she could run her fingers through his silky blond hair. If only she could tell him, how much she longed for him, without being laughed at or insulted.

***

She slapped him. Hard. "Don't you ever dare do that again, " she hissed grabbing her things and leaving the library in a hurry. Who the hell did that deatheater, muggle-hating bastard think he was? Why did he always have to humiliate her?

***

Draco groaned. She was sitting right in front of him, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. He stood up, walked over to her and grabbed her arm. Pulling her out of her seat he smashed his lips against hers. He couldn't help touch her body and he tried to tear her blouse open. Malfoys always got what they wanted.

***

Tick. Another minute gone forever. Hermione knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes, their penetrating look. It gave her Goosebumps and sent shivers down her spine.

Sighing she finally started to take notes. It was a relief to be distracted.

***

He pulled away gently, breaking their kiss, and looked at her. She was confused, her face flushed and she mumbled an embarrassed "sorry."

***

He didn't look at her as she strolled along the bookshelves, searching. Draco was eagerly scribbling on in his parchment and she even dared to catch a glimpse of what he was writing…Transfiguration. Hermione smirked. She had finished that essay days ago. Silently she tiptoed right behind him and glanced over his shoulder to check on his work. She was so busy not being noticed that she let out a startled scream when Malfoy turned around and grabbed her arm. Hermione winced, because he held her wrist tightly hurting her. His eyes narrowed dangerously and apparently even turned a darker shade of grey.

***

"I love you," he repeated these three words in a hoarse whisper. Hermione was stunned. Malfoy had just confessed he had feelings for her, even more than that, loved her!

***

Hermione stood up and walked over to the shelves behind the table where Draco was seated. She didn't need any book  in particular, but pretending to search for one would give her the opportunity to be closer to Draco. Perhaps she'd summon even enough courage to talk to him. She thought about that, but immediately dismissed the very idea. She was a mudblood and mudbloods don't talk to purebloods. Hermione frowned. Sure, Malfoy was good looking and damn sexy, however, he was just as conceited.

***

He chuckled as he felt her squirm underneath him. She struggled and tried with all her might to push him away, but her attempts to escape his roaming hands were doomed to failure. Again, he kissed her. So hard that he could taste her blood in his mouth as it slowly oozed out of the vein in her bottom lip.

***

"...therefore the aim of turning an animal or even a human being into..." once more he stopped writing and looked up. Hermione's presence distracted him. He could smell her sweet, but delicate perfume even though she sat what seemed to be miles away. For a moment he lost himself in his thoughts, then snapped out of his daydream. His dreams would never come true, would they?

***

He didn't let go of her wrist, but loosened his grip. "What is it, Granger?" he hissed.

"Nothing. I…"

"You're too nosy." he cut in dangerously. She was so close to him that he could feel her warm breath tickling his skin. Fear flickered in her eyes and something else…excitement?

***

Hermione looked at him, not knowing what to say or do. She was rendered speechless.

***

She held her breath and she could feel her heart beat against her ribcage. Nervousness took over and she felt her stomach squirm. She was caught and didn't know how to escape. Did she want to escape? All kinds of thoughts kept racing through her mind. She looked at him, stared at him and then seized his shirt and pulled him towards her, gently brushing her lips against his.

***

"Hey, Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione jumped as she suddenly was brought back to reality by the familiar sound of Harry's voice. "Oh, sure. I just didn't hear you coming." She smiled.

"Thought so." Ron grinned at her. "By the way, it's time for dinner. Aren't you hungry, yet?"

***

She could feel his cold hand touching her skin, gently melting into it, caressing her. He was capable of feelings after all he had done to her during the last hour. A silent tear rolled down her cheek, he brushed it away with his thumb. His grey eyes were dark, so dark and cloudy. Draco didn't look at her as he stood up, gathered his things and left the library.

***

Hermione smiled a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered, but wasn't sure if she really meant it.

***

 It was nearly dinner time. He had worked so hard on his essay that much more time had passed by then he had intended to spend working in the library. The mudblood was still here as well. Who cared? She actually seemed to live in the library, this bookish, bossy excuse of a girl. He watched her for a few moments, saw her friends, that insufferable Potter and that Weasly walk in and talk to her. She laughed, then stood up and followed them as they left without even noticing him back there.

Draco yawned. Time for dinner. Time to go.