A word of warning. This story is incomplete as in, it's missing the first 6 chapters, which were origionally written by a girl named VelvetBlood, who's account is no longer active. That means all of her stories are gone, including the beginning of this one. I could just take this down, but I still really love what I have written, and enjoy re-reading all of the reviews it has gotten over the years, so I choose for it to remain.

If you still want to read this (and I hope you do), here are the major plot points of the first 6 chapters:

Hermione spends the summer going into her seventh year with her cousins in America, where she decides to sex up her image a bit my straightening her hair, shortening he school skirts, and getting her tongue pierced. These changes (especially the tongue ring) provoke Draco into seeing her in a different light, and he begins to pursue her.

It's been so long since I've read her portion of the story, all I can tell you is that it started out as a fluff piece, but in the process she lost interest in the character pairing, and decided to darken things up a bit, but ultimately decided that she didn't want to finish it at all, and handed it over to me.

Another warning. This is a really heavy R rating for sexual violence

Chapter 7

Hermione ran, finally collapsing on the floor beside the Fat Lady's portrait. The cool stone floor felt good against her body, which was burning with a white-hot flame from the contact between her body and Malfoy' s. At the same time, an icy lump was forming in the pit of her stomach. It was her hatred, disappointment and doubts pulling together, making her want to be sick.

"Let me throw up," she whispered to the empty hall. "Make it go away."

The regret of the makeover, the clothes, hair, piercings…washed over her, in cold ocean waves. She should never of done any of it, she knew that now. Had she kept her frizzy hair and old uniforms, and if she hadn't gotten that damn piercing, nothing would have happened to her. She would have gone on invisible as a woman. Why not continue as a little kid? Malfoy would have never noticed her. He would have left it alone, and gone on torturing her the same way he always had. The same way that he taunted Harry and Ron.

Hermione started crying then, tears running freely down her face. She made no move to wipe them away, hoping to drown in them like Alice had. Instead, she fell asleep on the hard floor in the corridor.

Satisfied. Draco went to bed that night very satisfied with what he had done to that dirty little Mudblood. Mental torment was what he did best. The only doubt he'd had disappeared in moments. Would she tell a professor? No. She'd think that she brought it on upon herself.

And hadn't she? Those short skirts, that blasted sexy ball of metal in her mouth. If it hadn't been for that, he may have let the rest pass after a while. But that little Muggle device had everything to do with the lust that had been burning in him since he had seen her on the train.

Under the sheets his hand grasped his semi-erect penis. Kissing her had been a pleasure that he would certainly have again, as soon as possible. The most amazing part was how little she had resisted him, Draco Malfoy, her mortal enemy since they were eleven. She really was a little slut. She had wanted him, wanted him badly.

He replayed the feelings of kissing her, warm mouths pressed together, running his tongue over that warm, smooth metal ball. What a pleasure it would be to feel that on every inch of his body. He thought of her body; long beautifully tanned legs stretching up under that tiny little skirt which hid what must have been - and he would be very upset if it weren't so - white cotton panties.

Draco's hand was working furiously now, although he imagined it was that of a certain Gryffindor.

"Hermione?" Ron shook the sleeping girl softly.

Hermione opened her eyes to find Ron, Harry, and Lavender looking down at her. She was curled up in a ball on the floor like a cat, and had been that way for hours. Embarrassed, she sat up, wincing at her sore muscles.

"Hi guys," she said, faking a smile.

"Lavender said you didn't come to bed last night," Harry said, while Lavender nodded behind him. "We were worried."

Ron tacked onto Harry's statement, looking pale. "What the hell are you doing out here? Did something happen?"

"What? No, no. Nothing like that. I guess I fell asleep while on watch last night. I'm sorry if I worried you."

"You look like you've been crying," Lavender said.

"Crying? Don't be silly. Whatever for?" Hermione got shakily to her feet. "Again, I'm sorry if you were worried. I just fell asleep. I'll go get cleaned up, and meet you for breakfast in a few minutes, okay?"

The three looked at her warily.

"Okay," Harry said finally. "But if you want to talk about something, anything..."

"I'll go straight to you. Great. See you in a few."

She escaped into the portrait hole. As she changed into a fresh short skirt, she wondered if she shouldn't take the hem back down before going to breakfast. She got as far as getting a pair of scissors out of a drawer before she stopped. Her old Gryffindor courage came back to her. Malfoy could threaten her all he liked, but afraid or not, she wasn't going to show that he got to her the night before.

She went to the bathroom to wash her face and apply makeup. Looking in the mirror, Hermione touched her lips softly. She could still feel his kisses if she closed her eyes. It was the first time she had been kissed since Viktor in her forth year. Viktor's kisses had always been gentle and chaste. Not like Malfoy's bruising mouth, pressed tight against hers and-

Stop! Don't think about it. You'll only want him again!

The thought shocked through her brain. Her anger with him and disgust with herself had suppressed it until then.

No, she told herself sternly. You don't want it. You don't want him.

But the horrible truth was, she did.