The Color Green (Rewrite)

Chapter One

"You know, Hermione, green really isn't your color." Hermione Granger blinked at the comment, but never tore her gaze away from that…that cow, who was currently draping herself all over…him.

"I'm not jealous," she replied, still watching the couple with a scowl upon her face.

"Who said anything about being jealous? I was talking about your jumper." Hermione blinked twice and finally turned her attention to the speaker.

"What?" she blurted out, admittedly, a bit stupidly. She instantly blushed, which made Ginny smirk amusedly, and a little bit scarily as well. Wow, Hermione thought to herself, that was a lot of adverbs.

"Just get it over with and snog the man already!" Ginny hissed over to the red-faced brunette. "Maybe then I'll be able to enjoy supper without having to catch you glaring daggers over there." At Ginny's words, Hermione's gaze began to drift back to the sickening couple. The cow was now running her fingers through his stylishly mussed hair. Hermione sighed wistfully as she imagined how soft his hair must be while simultaneously plotting a million and one ways to detach the cow's fingers from her body. Hermione figured if she managed to remove a few more appendages in the process, it couldn't possibly have any negative effect on her desired result.

But she also wished that she had been bold enough to do it first, to hell with the consequences. At least then she wouldn't be sitting here, like a fool, envying Pansy Parkinson, of all people, for things she knew, for a fact, she couldn't have.

"Hermione!"

"I'm sorry, Ginny. What was that?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I was just saying that you had better do something about this…this…interest you've developed for our fair friend over there. Someone's bound to notice." Just as the words left Ginny's mouth, he turned in their direction and his gaze locked with Hermione's for she had, indeed, turned back to look at him. She froze and blushed once more for having been caught staring. For a few, crucial moments, she did nothing; she didn't blink, she didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't think. He went about the motions of pouring himself a drink, never breaking eye contact. She saw no emotion at first. Maybe the initial surprise at discovering that she had been staring and the flash of suspicion before schooling his features to a blank mask. But her paranoid mind could have imagined that, so nervous was she that she had been caught staring. At Draco Malfoy, no less! She'd never hear the end of it.

He lifted his goblet to his lips, his silver-blue eyes still locked on her cinnamon colored orbs, which had begun to water, but she still would not blink. It was a silent staring contest. A silent challenge that neither knew how it had been initiated. Both were unsure of the stakes, but at the moment, Hermione did not care. All she could think about was how much she would not mind being Draco's goblet at that moment. It must be nice to be held in his elegant hand, to be able to touch his lips. She was sure that they were softer than his hair.

He pulled the goblet away and a drop of pumpkin juice clung to his full bottom lip. He pink tongue came out to lick it away. Pink with embarrassment, as well as a little desire, she blinked. She rubbed her eyes a little bit to ease a little more moisture into them before looking back at Draco.

I win, he mouthed. And then he winked. She gulped. Her heart began to flutter. What just happened? And what did it all mean?

He knew she was staring. Just as he knew she was staring yesterday. And the day before that. Just as he knew she had been staring all year. And while it unnerved him at first, now he found it rather amusing. Endearing, even, that she could pull her nose out of her bloody books for just one second to finally acknowledge the fact that he was the sexiest thing to cross over Hogwarts' threshold and stare so blatantly.

Correction. Glare blatantly, but who has time for semantics nowadays?

He inwardly smirked, aware of the cause of Granger's disgruntled state. Of course, the source of her disgruntled state was also the cause of his disgruntled state. Pansy knew better than to muss his hair. But he said nothing, allowing Pansy's clammy hands to latch onto his arm, muss his perfect golden tresses, press her voluptuous (not to mention, most definitely magically enhanced, no matter what she might say to the contrary) breasts against his side, all to keep that adorably disgruntled look on Granger's face. Serves her right for staring.

He finally glanced over and caught her gaze. He feigned surprise at catching her staring, then suspicion. Had to keep up her belief that he disliked her, at the very least. It just wouldn't do to have her find out that he found her newfound interest in him amusing, and maybe a little bit charming. His blue-grey eyes latched onto her brown orbs…dull, ordinary brown, he reassured himself. He saw the thought running through her head. Saw every emotion she currently felt. His first instinct was to be disappointed in how easy it was to read her. This was the girl, no…woman, who continually assisted Harry-Sodding-Potter in fighting off the Darkest Wizard of their time. This was the girl who had stared defiantly at him as he called her Mudblood over and over again, the girl who had punched him third year for daring to make unprovoked taunts about a man she called one of her dearest acquaintances, yet now she wore her emotions so openly on her sleeve.

But as he continued staring, he found himself amazed at how much dimension such emotions added to her dull eyes. As each emotion passed across her face, a different shade of brown, even a little gold, swirled within those orbs. Suddenly, he found that he couldn't pull his gaze away. The room felt smaller and just a little bit warmer. He reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice, still unable to tear his gaze away from Granger's. That made him pissed. How could this ordinary looking girl with the smart mouth and her hand practically stuck in the air, her nose always in a book, intrigue him so? He continued to drink and watched in amazement as her eyes grew darker with a new emotion. If he wasn't mistaken, her eyes were almost black with…dare he say it?...desire. He could almost read every thought going through her head. He inwardly smirked. Now this he could work with. This should be fun.

He finally pulled the goblet away, allowing one, single drop of juice to cling to his bottom lip. Knowing she was watching, he stuck his tongue out to catch it before it dripped back into his awaiting goblet. She blinked. He smirked. Got you, Granger. She rubbed her eyes and then went straight back to staring at him. He couldn't help himself. It was too easy.

I win.

Allow her to come to her own conclusions as to what he might want as far as terms. And with that, he stood, effectively pushing Pansy off his person, causing her to lose her balance and fall back onto the person beside her. It happened to be Blaise Zabini, who merely grunted at the momentary interruption of his meal. She threw him a disgusted look and an irritated one at Draco, who did not care enough to acknowledge it whatsoever before turning on his heel and walking out of the Great Hall.

When Hermione decided to return to Hogwarts to finish her education, she honestly had no idea what to expect. All she had wanted to do was finish out the year, pass her N.E.W.T.s, and work her way up through the Ministry as quickly as she possibly could. It wasn't necessary, she knew, but she wanted to make a name for herself other than The-Girl-Who-Helped-The-Boy-Who-Lived. Besides having an exhaustingly long moniker, she simply didn't want to be known as the sidekick. Call her selfish or self-centered or what-have-you, but Hermione Granger was simply not raised to be content living in someone else's shadow. She was super intelligent and had the ability to be somebody and she would show the world that pureblood or not, she was meant to be here.

She figured that maybe that was part of the reason she was so obsessed with Malfoy. Her whole Hogwarts career, he had made her feel as if she was inadequate, as if she was never going to be good enough for this school. And that was what made her hate Malfoy, that he was the first person to ever make her feel inferior. Sure, Ron talked about her behind her back about how she was such an insufferable know-it-all, but it wasn't anything that she hadn't heard her entire life. She was used to not having friends because of her eagerness to share knowledge. But Malfoy actually made her feel like she didn't belong. She had never been hated simply because she had been born. It wasn't something that she could help. It was simply who she was and nothing she did would change it. She felt helpless when it came to Malfoy's barbs about being a Mudblood. And while she became better at hiding her hurt, the word always stung.

Upon that last thought, she finally found herself at the entrance to the Head Dorms. It was no surprise that either of then had received the positions of Head Boy and Girl, seeing as how Hermione was often labeled as "the brightest witch of her year" and Malfoy had always been just a few points below her in all their classes. What was a surprise was that he had come back to accept the position at all. After he had fled with Snape, she figured that Draco Malfoy would never dare show his face around Hogwarts again. But somehow, he had been acquitted of all charges, the Wizengamot deciding that he had been too young and under much duress, Narcissa Malfoy having revealed the Unbreakable Vow she had made with Snape and the delicate circumstances of Draco's assignment. And come September 1, there Draco was, on the Hogwarts Express. And since it was Malfoy, he couldn't just leave anything alone and actually sat down with her in her compartment. He said nothing, simply nodded in greeting and they continued the rest of the trip in silence, although it wasn't uncomfortable. But then, of course, he had to ruin it; as they went off in their separate ways, he had parted with a nonchalant, "See you around, Mudblood," and ran to catch up with Pansy and Zabini. And, for the first time since second year, Hermione Granger cried because Malfoy had called her that foul name.

She shivered at the memory and how the disgusting word fell so easily from his lips. How it had broken her heart in second year and how it had inexplicably did the same just months before. How she still had feelings for him now regardless. She looked around their shared suite for any signs of her dorm-mate. The space seemed empty and she relaxed, taking a few steps towards the bathroom.

"You know, Granger, it is incredibly rude to block the entry way." She gasped as spun around, clutching her hand to her racing heart.

"Malfoy, you prick, you gave me a fright." Draco shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"Such language, Granger. What would everyone think if they heard their conquering heroine speaking in such a manner?" Hermione stuck her fists to her hips, her stance ready for a fight.

"They would think that I had a justifiable reason since it is you to whom I am speaking." He took a step into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, that damn smirk still in place. Only then did Hermione realize that he had effectively trapped her in the loo, of all places. And seeing that smirk on his face only angered her even more.

"And don't you dare smirk at me like that, Draco Malfoy." His smirk grew even broader.

"Like what, Granger? I had no idea you even noticed how I smirked…Hermione." She frowned.

"Don't…call me that."

"What? Hermione? It is your name, is it not?"

"Yes, but…you're not allowed to use it." He chuckled amusedly.

"And why, might I ask, is that, Princess?"

"Don't call me that either!" He rolled his eyes.

"What, what can I call you, then? I can't call you by your given name, I can't call you Princess and I most certainly cannot call you Mud—" In a flash, Hermione had Malfoy up against the wall, wand to his neck.

"DON'T!" Malfoy frowned, pushing her wand away gently.

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you, Granger?"

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with you? Why were you staring at me?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Staring? At you? Hold on a minute there. I'm positively sure that it was you who was staring at me. Although," and here he treated her to a particularly smug smirk, "I can hardly blame you." He winked at her for the second time that night. Her eyes narrowed.

"You're disgusting." She turned to walk through the door that led to her room. But as the reached out to turn the knob, his voice stopped her again.

"You owe me, you know." She stopped, but did not turn around. Didn't respond. Simply waited. She could feel him taking slow steps towards her.

"I won. Fair and square." She finally spun around.

"What are you talking about?" She was face-to-face with Malfoy. She gasped lightly. She hadn't expected him to be so close. He looked down at her for several seconds, but they seemed to drag on forever.

She took the time to take a good look into his eyes. It was like looking into the reflection of the stormy sky in the roiling ocean; hints of green and blue flickered amongst the grey. As she continued to stare, his eyes grew darker. It was an amazing sight to watch. The colors blending together as his eyes grew stormier. She should have heeded it as a warning, that a different storm was brewing, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. This was the closest that she had been to Draco all year. She couldn't move. Her body was longing to touch him, but she kept her fists clenched tight. Finally, he spoke.

"It seems to me, Hermione Granger, that you have a staring problem," he finally croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. She gulped. Be brave, she told herself. Be bold. Don't let Pansy best you in something! She stood taller and looked down her nose at him through heavy eyelids.

"And what are you going to do about it?" He crowded in just a little bit closer. Hermione resisted the urge to back up. She would not lose this round. He leaned forward so that his mouth just barely brushed her ear.

"You don't want to know what I would do about it," he said huskily, his voice dropping a bit. She gave a little smirk of her own and tilted her head so that her mouth brushed up against his ear.

"Maybe I do." Malfoy backed away quickly, surprise clearly etched on his aristocratic features. Then suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't toy with me, Granger." She gave him her best imitation of his infamous smirk, gently taking hold of his green Slytherin tie. She couldn't believe how bold she was being. But it's about damn time I finally took what I wanted.

"But I'm not…Draco."

To say that he was taken aback by her sudden brazenness would have been a slight understatement. Draco Malfoy had never before witnessed Hermione Granger act like that and wasn't sure that anyone had, really. And it was a good thing, too. He had never been more turned on in his life. There was just something about seeing Innocent and Naïve Little Hermione Granger, Princess of Gryffindor and Queen of Swot, acting not so innocent and definitely not so swotty (if that was even a word) that made his blood run hot in his veins. He could feel it rushing to his face, which he did not like. It gave him the appearance that he was blushing and Malfoys did not blush! Damn his ancestors for cursing him with such fair skin! He distracted himself by looking once more into those, okay, he admitted to himself, not-so-dull brown eyes. Immediately, he realized that this was a Bad Idea (and, yes, it's meant to be capitalized); her eyes were so dilated that they really did look black, giving her an evil look. And while any other, lesser, man would have been intimidated, it only served to make him want her even more. Finally, unable to control himself, he grabbed Hermione by the back of the neck and crushed her lips to his.

He tasted heavenly. Even better than anything she could have imagined. While he had been aggressive at first, he had gentled and his kiss was passionate. Nothing like the chaste kisses her and Viktor shared and only slightly different than the kiss she and Ron and shared in the heat of the moment during the Final Battle. She was so glad that they had realized that while they may have been attracted to one another, there was really nothing going for them in the long run. Now, he was happily reunited with Lavender Brown and she couldn't be happier for them. And why was she thinking about Won-Won and Lav-Lav while she was having the best song session of her life? Just as she contemplated just that, Draco pressed his thumbs against her jaw, encouraging her to open her mouth. She did and his tongue swooped into her mouth, as if trying to learn every groove, sensually coaxing her tongue to dance with his, and every other rational thought was expelled from her mind except one: Draco Malfoy was the best damn kisser ever. She moaned into his mouth as his serpentine-like tongue took another sweep on her mouth. She had never kissed any other boy in such a way before. She had had this view that having another person's tongue in her mouth wasn't very sexy. She was fully prepared to retract that statement. Draco Malfoy's tongue in her mouth was most definitely sexy. Very sexy. She clutched onto his robes, pulling him closer, if such a thing were possible. Their bodies were pressed so close together, she was almost unsure of where he started and she began. Or vice versa. And while that statement did seem incredibly cliché, she didn't care. All she cared about was the feeling of his hard, muscle-toned body against her own; such a contrast to her softness. She stood on her tiptoes to better align herself with him, brushing up against him, eliciting a deep grown from Malfoy. The primal sound of his deep voice rumbled against her body, they were so close, and it made her feel even hotter. He pulled away just a fraction of an inch and asked against her lips, "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Granger?"

Did she? Did she really know what she was getting herself into? She had admired Draco from afar all year, wanting him for what reason, she did not know. All she knew was that, yes, he was a snarky bastard and a bully to boot, but he was damn sexy. He had a certain charm to him that had not been present in previous years. And while he still teased her mercilessly, it seemed more in jest than malicious. He wasn't nice in any sense, but there was just something about him that made Hermione feel as if she could forgive him for any fault because he was just so damn cute.

"No," she finally admitted. "But it's not as if you'd let me stop at this point." He smirked.

"It seems that you know me well, Ms. Granger."

"You're a prat, Malfoy."

"Yet, you want me anyway."

"It seems that you know me as well, Mr. Malfoy."

"Just shut up and keep kissing me, Granger." And she did.

A/N: Okay! So that was the first chapter of my "The Color Green" rewrite! I started to reformat the story so that it was relevant to Deathly Hallows, but I realized that it would interfere with the overall flow of the story that I had imagined in the first place. I'll try to update two chapters at a time until I'm all caught up. Again, this will take some time since I am still without my own computer and I have to find time to drag my ass to my parents' house to use theirs while they're out of town.

Not that you needed to know all of that, but anyway...

I would hope that you like the changes, though subtle, and I give you my gratitude for all of your continued loyalty to my writing. It really means a lot!

P.S. For the reviewer of my absolutely ancient story, "My Favorite Mistake," who said that it seemed cliche and all this other stuff that I didn't care to remember, I don't know if you really looked at the year that it was published, but I was NINETEEN when I wrote that story, so of course it was cliche and juvenile. I wrote it at an age when I had all these horrible preconceived notions about love that were all inaccurate, having never been in a real relationship at that point and, therefore, having no real-world knowledge on the subject. Please don't judge. I'm trying very hard to rectify that problem in my current works and hopefully, I'll continue to become a better, more mature writer. Thank you and fuck you very much.