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?

Sweat glimmered against the manes of the strands of silver hair that covered his head. He was half covered in covers, his eyelids closed, and his breathing uneven. He struggled against the bed, as Hermione watched him carefully, holding her breath until the shock would wear off. What did he think he was doing, lying in her bed, surprising her like that? If she was a year younger, she would've blushed and giggled carelessly, but she was sixteen. A dangerous age of hormonal strike, which comforted her and encouraged her to be steadily calm.

She moved forward, examining him, her heartbeat racing against her ribs painfully. There was excitement fulfilling inside of her. She looked around her room and stifled an outraged gasp. Clothes were thrown about everywhere, underwear, shirts, shorts, pants, extra robes and spellbooks splattered on the floor on a messy clatter. In the heap of it all was a silvery material that looked oddly like Harry's invisibility cloak. She squinted in the darkness, moving closer and touched it, smelling the soft, sweet scent of faint cologne. No, Harry didn't wear cologne. This must've been Malfoy's, and this was how he got through without her catching him!

Hermione's dreadful thought came into view. That had mean that he had followed her into her room...and she had undressed.

Oh God, she thought to herself. He had seen her undress. She could feel her face burning with humiliation. He probably made fun of the flabby way her stomach was, or how flat chested she was, or how her thighs were thick and her ankles were skinny. She shuddered. How horrible she must've looked. But what had enticed him to her bed? Tiredness, perhaps? Maybe something more? She shook the thoughts of quickly, determined to get back at him. Grinning, she slowly creeped out of bed and studied the items on her dressing table. There were various tubes of lip gloss, different colors of eyeshadow, cotton balls, nail polish...and lipstick...LIPSTICK!

A thought urged into her brain, and she found herself imitating the Cheshire cat. She looked through her several tubes of lipstick until she found a rather nice shade of red, which was a light brown but heavy dark auburn color. She took the top off, and creeped back into her bed, leaning over Draco. His face looked oddly angelic, which she found rather endearing, but she managed to leave her concentration on her revenge. She applied the lipstick softly, brushing it against his bottom lip, throughly going toward all textures of his lips. As soon as she finished applying to the bottom lip, she started on the top, taking a small amount of lipstick on her finger and brushing it against his lips. They were soft lips, and a sudden tingling sensation began to reform in her fingertip. She let go, and giggled a bit at Draco's appearance.

He would wake up a woman! The thought was too humorous to bear. Hermione was thinking of putting eyeshadow on him when suddenly, his arms swung around her waist tenderly. Her heart leaped into shock, and she saw that Draco was still half asleep, muttering to himself.

He must be having a dream, she noted thoughtfully as he pulled her closer against his body. She squirmed a bit, being so close to him. Her chest thudded against his, and her head was right below his chin as he held her. She heard him murmur something.

"Mmm...must get more..." he muttered, his hand wavering to her hip.

Oh, gross, she thought, her insides drowning in the pleasant embrace. He's having a sex dream, her mind exclaimed.

Trying to stay absolutely calm and content, she closed her eyes, trying not to notice the fact that a drop dead gorgeous sixteen year old boy was hugging her tightly in her own bed.

No, think of something else. Something non-sexy. Let's see...Snape! Yes, Snape. He's ...well...greasy. Imagine his greasy hands all over you. Oh God, I'm going to throw up now. Okay, easier subject. Okay, Transfiguration. No, that's boring. Harry! Yes, Harry...what had been with that kiss? Did he feel that unusual heat too? It felt kind of like kissing Draco, with actual tenderness. Now that's scary. With Harry, it's like one kiss, you have that to think about it for a lifetime. With Draco, you want more, and you go on, and on, and on all night..

NO! NO! Stop thinking! Must think about books. Socks. Dumbledore. Dobby. Anything!

But Hermione's thoughts wavered over to the other end of sinister, and without any self control, she moved up against him, and heard him clutch strands of her hair in response.

"Mmm...butter...yes...." she heard him say seductively.

What - the - fuck?! Hermione let go off him suddenly, falling off the other end of the bed and landing with a thump on the floor.

"Bitch," she murmured, struggling to get up. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door.

What the - it was morning! Very, very early morning in fact! Probably 2 o'clock A.M. Who the hell would be outside her door this late, or early?

She looked around anxiously, fighting the terrible urge to groan. Her room was a mess, and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy was in her bed! This would not be a very good position for her to be in, especially if several types of underwear and shorts lay scattered across the floor.

"'Mione? Open up, it's me," a drowsy voice in the end of the door said.

Harry! She got up hurriedly, and covered Draco with sheets and pillows, and swung open the door to a small gape.

"Harry! How'd - how did you know I was awake?" she stammered, at lost for any logical words in her mind.

"I heard footsteps under your door...I was passing by, and I thought we should talk anyways. Ron told me you guys made up before he went to sleep, and you've been avoiding me in classes," he said, smiling nervously. He was wearing long, blue striped bottoms, with a matching shirt, which Hermione noted sensually that was unbuttoned at the front.

"Well, I just...can we ...in the morning? I mean..."

Harry looked at her suspiciously.

"What's wrong? I've been in your room before."

"Well yes...but..." she tried hard to look for a reasonable excuse.

"Do you have someone in there?" Harry prompted suddenly.

Her heart leaped in panic. 'Oh God.'

"Harry! What a thing to say," she said, her voice coming out high and unnatural.

He stared at her knowingly. "You do, then."

She froze, looking at him intently. "Harry..." her voice faded off.

Harry nodded, a frown set upon his lips. "Fine, I'll leave. Don't want to disturb you and your lover."

He started to walk back, but Hermione opened the door and stepped out to follow after him.

"Harry, wait! It's not what you think!"

He turned around, and glared at her in furious anger.

"Oh really! It's not? That means that you don't have Malfoy in your bed, hm?" he snapped.

She gaped. She couldn't help it. It was as if he could read her mind clearly.

"I knew it."

He began storming back, but Hermione grabbed his arm, sighing.

"Fine, you can come in. To talk," she said pointedly. He blushed a small faint tint of red before following her to her dorm. She muttered the password again and he followed her.

A sudden ache began to rise in her throat as he stepped into the darkness of her room and sat on the bed. Hermione stiffened in action as she saw the covers and pillows that hid Malfoy in her bed rise slowly.

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