The Snake And The Lion

A/N:
margaritama: I mean that she won't go back to meet him again. Hermione feels that Draco is expecting her to come back to meet him again outside the Slytherin common room, and she is swearing that she won't go to see him again. She doesn't want to give him that satisfaction.

readingwoman777:
1. Its supposed to be Hermione's dream, and its not real. It is simply supposed to be Hermione dreaming of Draco in various situations. Sort of signaling that she is subconsciously worrying about him. In terms of his conversation with Crabbe, when I wrote it, I intended for it to be about something completely unrelated, and that Draco was merely using that as an insult. I can see how it was confusingly written.
2. Typo is fixed, thank you for pointing it out. :) In terms of snuck, I think that people have become so divided on the subject that either has become acceptable. I grew up saying snuck, so I'm going to leave it that way, but I completely understand your query.

Thank you for the reviews. Longer chapter this time. :)
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She couldn’t dream about him at night. She couldn’t talk to him during the day. But there was absolutely nothing that could stop Hermione from dreaming about him while she was awake.

The daydreams started out simply. She would find herself thinking about him, about any part of him. Sometimes about his hair, or his pale white skin, or the strong bridge of his nose. Often times she found herself dwelling on details of his appearance that she had little idea she knew about.

And the entire thing disgusted her. Hermione now needed to actively concentrate on keeping him out of her thoughts. None other than the infuriating Draco Malfoy had suddenly reduced her, who usually had such great self-control, to a blushing schoolgirl. She scolded herself every time his statuesque face entered her mind. She pushed him away with every
fiber of her being.

And still he returned.

If only the real Draco Malfoy were as persistent as the one in her mind. She found this thought invading her head more and more often. Each and every time she scoffed at herself in disgust. What, she asked herself on more than one occasion, do you think would happen if he were that persistent? It’s not as if you actually want him. You simply want to regain the upper hand. Hermione Granger does not lose.

And yet it was quite clear that she was losing. Malfoy had the upper hand, and he did not intend on losing it. He could feel her eyes on him almost every moment of the day. He would have feared that she was stalking him had this not been his plan. She could deny it all she wanted, but Hermione was going to come back to him. And he would be waiting, ready to pull her up against him and whisper those three words in her ear: “Told you so.”
He couldn’t wait.

***

“Malfoy.” The word slipped out before she could think about what she was doing. For a moment his back remained to her, hiding the grin of triumph that spread across his face. He turned slowly, and for a moment she could only think about how grateful she was that he responded at all. If he hadn’t… she didn’t know what she would have done.

It was certainly not this. Hermione leaned forward before she could allow herself to chicken out and planted her lips firmly on his. He did not pull away. She felt her confidence building and she took a step forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. She parted her lips, urging him to kiss her back.

She felt his lips part in response, and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth, warm and wet and forceful. She pushed forward once again, backing him against the wall and pressing her entire body against his. Suddenly he tore his head away, closing his eyes to avoid her questioning gaze.

“Malfoy… Why…?” Hermione’s voice was full of hurt. She looked up and Malfoy, and she could feel his chest rising with his
heaving breathing. After a moment he responded.

“I’m always in control Granger.” She didn’t understand. His hands closed around her wrists, similarly to the way they had at their first meeting, and he swung her around, crushing her against the wall. Then he repeated himself. “I am ALWAYS in control.”

That’s when she realized what he meant. He wasn’t trying to explain his reaction. He was telling her the rules. Normally Hermione would object, but for some reason, in this moment, there was nothing that she wanted more than for him to be in control.

“Always…” she murmured back, seconds before his lips closed over hers once again. The kiss they had just shared was nothing compared to this. He raised her arms above her head, pinning both her wrists against the wall with one hand. The other embedded itself in her hair. He was running the show now, burying his tongue in her mouth, withdrawing momentarily to bite at her lower lip, earning a moan with every nip.

The hand that held her hair pulled back gently, drawing her head back with it, and Malfoy moved on to devour her neck. He pushed closer to her, and Hermione could feel the heat of his body threatening to burn her up. As if reading her thoughts, Malfoy drew back, looking at her with those deep dark eyes.

“Its dangerous to play with fire, Granger.” Hermione didn’t even have to think before the answer was on her tongue.

“I know, “she breathed, gasping as his burning heat enveloped her again. His mouth travelled down her neck, kissing lightly, before biting his way back down. Each bite stung her skin with its intensity, and she felt herself melting beneath his touch. She would surrender completely to him. All he had to do was ask.

But Malfoy was above asking; he would take what he wanted. His hand removed itself from her hair and moved down to her waist. She was thinner than he had thought, not tiny though, and that was fine with him. He ran his hand down over her hip. Her hourglass shape was delicious. His hand travelled back up to her shirt, struggling to undo the buttons. Hermione found herself wondering vaguely whether or not to help him.

As if in answer to her question he spoke.

“Granger.”

Her hands were still pinned above her head; she couldn’t help.

“Granger.”

Oh! He’d undone them. His hand reached searchingly under her shirt.

“GRANGER!”

Hermione’s head jerked up of the desk. The bright light of the library flooded into her sleepy eyes.

“I’m sorry to disturb your nap, Granger,” Malfoy was sitting on the desk next to her, his head cradled in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. “But you were drooling on the book I’m trying to take out.” Hermione realized that she had in fact been using a book as a pillow.

She held it out to him impatiently, rubbing at the imprint of “Hogwarts A History” that adorned her cheek. Malfoy took it from her, his index finger brushing against the back of her hand as he did. Hermione jerked her hand away as if his touch scalded her. She turned away, waiting for him to leave.

“I take it you haven’t been sleeping well.” Hermione’s head snapped back around. He couldn’t know… could he? Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“How would you know?” she snapped. The laughter in his eyes was infuriating.

“No need to get defensive Granger. You were asleep in the library. I’ve never known you to take a nap with so many… interesting books around.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me Malfoy.” Triumph flashed behind his eyes. He took two steps forward, closing the distance between them effortlessly. He placed one hand under her chin, raising her face to his.

“And what would those be Granger?” he whispered, his lips inches from hers. Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Malfoy? What’s going on?” Crabbe was standing there, staring dumbly at the two of them. He was scratching absent-mindedly at his left arm, a habit that had developed ever since he was branded. Malfoy shook his head in annoyance.
“Nothing Crabbe. I was simply borrowing a book from Granger.” With that he stalked off down the hall, without so much a word to Hermione. Crabbe scowled at her for a moment longer before continuing off behind Malfoy.

Hermione sat there, the events of the past five minutes racing through her head. His heat enveloping her, filling every part of her… that had only been a dream. She shook off the sting of disappointment. Her hand moved up to her chin. That was real. He had no doubt touched her here.

Hermione’s hand stayed on her chin, even as she gathered her things. She was in such a hurry to get back to the common room that she didn’t even notice “Hogwarts A History” laying on the desk next to hers.
It lay there forgotten; Malfoy had not wanted it after all.

***

Malfoy knew it was risky, speaking to her so boldly. He had run the risk of letting her know how badly he wanted her. But how could he have simply walked by her? When he had come up she was sleeping, her head resting on that book. She looked so peaceful with her mouth cracked slightly, her wild hair falling everywhere. He had been prepared to move on when it happened.

She had cried his name in her sleep.