Now Hermione was conflicted. She wasn't sure what she wanted. She knew she liked Malfoy, for some godforsaken reason, but could she trust him? The short answer was no, not really. But truth be told, her body wanted him.
As she lay in bed that night she let her brain imagine what it would be like to have him there in her bed, heavy on top of her, naked, doing things she had never done before.
The next morning she woke up hot and bothered from a dream. And there was no way she was getting out of bed without relieving the feeling between her legs. By the time she was ready for the day, she had missed breakfast. Yet another thing she could blame Malfoy for.
And she did. Half way through Herbology and left to go to the toilets. And because it seemed like the universe wanted her to see Malfoy, she bumped into him in the middle of a desolate hallway. They both seemed caught off guard and quiet, not Malfoy's usual self.
"Good morning," he said.
"Is it?"
"I don't know, you tell me," he responded.
She took a deep breath. "Come with me," she muttered and led them to a small room off to the side.
"What are you doing?"
"Well I'd rather not be seen talking to you, Malfoy." They entered the space and she closed the door behind her. "I missed breakfast cause of you."
"Cause of me," he said, his eyebrows raised. Like a switch, she could see the second his confidence and swagger returned to him. She clearly hadn't thought this one through.
"I-I mean." She coughed. "Nevermind."
"No, no." He could tell she was uncomfortable. He grinned. "Tell me."
She glared up at him, crossing her arms. "What does that mean, you missed breakfast because of me."
"It's because-" Hermione swallowed. "Because you kept me up last night. I couldn't stop thinking about your incessant voice."
"My voice, yeah?"
"Yes."
"What about my voice?"
"Your stupid voice, and your stupid apology."
"Is that so," he was walking up to her and she was losing the ability to speak. Butterflies were everywhere.
"What are you doing?" She raised her head defiantly. "I'm still mad at you, you know."
"Then why are you blushing, Granger." He towered over her. "I can tell when you're angry." He said slowly. "And I can tell when you're not."
"You know nothing; I am angry," she said, her voice not as powerful as she would have liked it to be. He was so close to her, it was driving her mad.
"Perhaps, but I can tell-"
"Tell what."
"That you want me."
"Oh shut it, Malfoy. You-you-" she had no words. "You're despicable. An arrogant little git."
"Am I?" He said, his hands reaching for her, landing on her waist and making her gasp.
"So tell me," he continued, squeezing her slightly as he bent down to whisper in her left ear. "Why did I make you miss breakfast?"
"H-how are you so sure there was another reason?" Hermione could feel goosebumps travel up the left side of her body.
Malfoy backed up slightly to look down at her. "Call it… intuition," he whispered.
Her mouth parted. "W-well you're wrong. There is no other reason."
"Then why is your heart racing?"
"Because you make me nervous." He smirked and she halfheartedly rolled her eyes. "I bet you like that huh?" She said, an ounce of sass.
"Maybe a little," he said.
Gaining some confidence, she countered, "that is such a man thing to say."
"Yes well," he reached for her arms, his hands traveling to her hands and taking hold of them. "It's fun," he continued, pinning them against the door. "To make you nervous."
Hermione squeaked as he pressed into her, her hands stuck above her head. She definitely liked this.
"Y-you need to go," she all but whimpered.
"Okay, Granger," he said, loosening his hold on her. "I'll leave you to your imagination," he whispered in her ear before stepping around her and exiting the room.
Hermione could spend days trying to convince herself she was still mad at him, and maybe she was, but she knew it was a lost cause.