Having Fun With The Devil
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Cruel Intentions Style
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and properties belong to J.K. Rowling and Warnor Bros.
Summary: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy are sworn enemies, and this time things go too far. A war is set, and extreme measures are met. Everybody deserves a little sexual harassment in this show, but have things gone too far? Who will win, and which one will be bitten by the unlikely sensation of love?
Harry quickly covered his eyes with his hand. Ron did nothing, he stood there, numbly looking at them. Snape pushed them, restricting them to come outside of his classroom with his arm, and shut the door, and examining Draco and Hermione with a funny look on his face. Hermione was oddly surprised to see a flush covering his usually pale, cold cheeks.
"You two may go back to your dorms until Potions is over. We will discuss this matter later. Get your slimy clothes off the floor, and get out of my sight! NOW!" he roared, causing them both to jump. Blushing furiously, Hermione gathered her robes swiftly and pulled it over her shoulders, turning away from her Potions Professor. She heard footsteps behind her, and she assumed Draco was following.
As they were out of sight near the classroom, Hermione chose this moment to hide her humiliation and take it out on Draco.
"You little bastard! Look what you did! Oh my God, I'm going to be suspended! Or worse, expelled!" she moaned, muttering under her breath.
"Calm down, you wrench. He's not going to give you a freaking suspension because of this! I expect about twenty or more points off of our houses, and detentions."
"You wish! Whatever, Malfoy. I'm going to go back to my dorm, before you get me in any more trouble," she sneered, turning on her heel and walking onto the other direction. He shook his head, sighing as he watched her bundle of brown hair swing behind her.
What a bitch, he thought bitterly, and started up to his dorms.
---
Surprisingly, Malfoy was right. However, it was not Snape that had come, but Professor McGonagall. By the time she was done with a hurried lecture of sexuality, Hermione's face was flushed. Finally, she took off 25 needed points off of Slytherin and Gryffindor, and gave them three detentions for the week, which they would spend time cleaning the Owlery, various classrooms, and assisting Professor Flitwick reorganizing the various feathers and other ingredients in his classroom.
When Hermione had attended her classes after that, she sat next to Neville, avoiding Harry and Ron's piercing stares that were poring into her back. Although she was pretending to be busy scribbling down notes, what she was really doing was doodling in History of Magic.
Her perfect cursive read these curly letters:
bitch bitch who does he think he is, what a bitch.
Henry the Third was famous for thinking of the Lurid Potion, which would lure anybody into a hidden area of the Forbidden Curse of Wisdom, used by Henry the SECOND at ....
Draco bitch.
Oh yes, she was studying quite hard this semester.
---
Draco did his usual strut to the Common Room when it was six o'clock. He murmured the password and walked in, examining the people that were chatting near the fireplace. People stopped to stare at him as he passed by to go to his Prefect Dorm. There was a tap on his shoulder.
It was Peter Lufflehyrt, a fellow 4th year Slytherin that usually stuttered and had a mass full of brown curls. He coughed nervously, his eyes darting around suspiciously.
"What is it, Lufflehyrt? I'm busy."
"A letter - a letter's has arrived for you sir, it was delivered in the Common Room, nobody wanted to open -"
"Where is it?" Draco said, looking around the large room curiously.
"I have it right here," Peter exclaimed excitedly, tugging something out of his pocket. Ah yes, Draco thought with satisfaction. It was indeed a reply from Sarah.
"Get your filthy hands off it," he said, snatching the letter from Peter's quivering hands.
He opened the door to his Prefect Dorm, cast a locking charm, and opened the door, casually plomping down into his bed.
Draco opened the letter, his eyes pondering around the written words.
---
Hermione groaned as she felt her eyes blink open. It had been a rough night, trying to get to sleep with all the things from yesterday passing through her mind. She blinked again, pulling her eyes into vision. She was in her bed, except there was something extremely unusual. Hermione took an intake of her breath, and found herself staring into wide, green eyes that looked back at her.
She shrieked, falling off her bed and thumping onto the floor.
"Ouch!" she squealed, rubbing her head vigorously.
"Sorry 'bout that," a familiar voice said apologetically, and offered her a hand. She accepted, sitting herself in the bed again, her vision a bit dizzy.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
It was Harry. He was already wearing his robes, and his eyes were looking at her with a strange look through his primmed glasses.
"Harry! What're you doing here?" Hermione rubbed her tired eyes, trying to make sure this wasn't just another dream.
He paused, his fingers tapping on her pillow. Finally, after a few moments of thinking, he finally spoke.
"We're really worried about you, 'Mione," he finally replied vaguely.
"We?"
"Ron and me...he doesn't want to show it, but he's jealous."
"Jealous? Jealous of what?"
"Malfoy."
"Malfoy?!"
"You know how Ron fancies you! I mean, it was really shocking, the way you just...argh, the thought of you and Malfoy together makes me sick," Harry said suddenly, making a face.
"I'm not with Malfoy!"
"Um, half dressed in front of him is, 'Mione."
Hermione couldn't help the huge blush creeping up to her cheeks.
"It- it's hard to explain, but I hate him! Please, you have to believe me! I swear to on my life I hate him, loathe him! I wish he would die! Please, Harry, please believe me."
There was a long silence.
"I believe you want to believe you hate him," he finished pathetically.
"Oh God, this is so stupid! It was just a moment! A heated elapse, stupid freaking hormones, you have to admit he's not really ugly or anything! It was nothing!"
"It was something if it happened with one of your enemies and not with a friend that fancies you, 'Mione," Harry pointed out.
"Oh, you shut up," she snapped.
He did. But all that went through Hermione's head through the needed silence was strange buzzing in her ears.
"Oh God, Ron hates me, doesn't he?" Hermione groaned, collapsing into Harry's arms. Her nose rubbed against the material of his robes. He smoothed down her hair comfortingly.
"Nope. He just wants you even more. Just answer me one question, 'Mione, do you like Ron?"
Hermione sighed, closing her eyes.
"No, not like that, Harry. You know I care about him more than anything else in the world, but he's not boyfriend material, I just don't feel anything, you know?"
"How come? And what do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Like, I just don't feel excited when I brush up against him like this," she demonstrated this by snuggling more closer to him.
"And?"
"And..." Hermione paused. "And, when he whispers in my ear, I'm supposed to feel this weird tingling sensation, but I don't," she muttered in his ear.
"Hmm..."
"Also, when his leg brushes against mine, I don't feel any lust or anything," Hermione said, her leg pushing against Harry's.
"I see."
Hermione looked up, and saw an unreadable expression in Harry's eyes.
"What is it?"
Harry looked down at her. " 'Mione...I..."
His best friend closed her eyes, leaning her face toward his. Their lips brushed against each other for a split second, before Hermione pulled away, looking at him in horror.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
"Hermione - wait..."
"You need to go! Please!" she urged. He nodded dumbly, getting up and parting the drapes around her bed. As his footsteps faded away slowly, she collapsed back in her bed, touching her lips with her fingertips.
As if she didn't have any trouble already.
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