The Snake and the Lion; Is It Possible To Be Compatible? (A Draco Malfoy love story)

*Lydia's P.O.V.*

You sat between Ginny and Hermione and across from Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. The sorting was now over, Professor Dumbledore had made his speech and explained about the Triwizard Tournament that would be held at Hogwarts, the students of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Academy had been introduced to the students of Hogwarts, and now everyone was digging into the feast that lay in front of them. Several times while you were eating you could have sworn someone was staring at you, but whenever you looked up, there was no one. Eventually, you got tired of it and formed a plan.

"Hey, Hermione," you whispered with your head still bowed over your plate.

"What is it, Lydia?" She whispered back.

"I swear, I feel that there's someone looking at me, but every time I look up, there isn't anyone," you explained. "I need you to look for me and tell me if you see anything, okay?"

Hermione nodded slowly in understanding and raised her head, her eyes searching the room for whoever was staring at you. Finally she whispered, "You were right, Lydia. There is someone looking at you."

"Who is it?" You asked, your curiosity peaked.

"Malfoy!"

"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned. "What? Does he think I'm gonna hex him or something? Or is he stalking me now? What?"

"I don't know," Hermione said with a shrug. "Try looking up quickly. You'll might catch him off guard."

"Alright," you whispered. "At what part of the table is he sitting?"

"Center, just like us. Face where we can see it," she told you.

"Alright. Thanks," you said and readied yourself to look up as fast as you could. Your head shot up quickly and you looked across the aisle to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was, indeed, looking at you. Your eyes locked with his and, for a moment, he stared at you, his face blank, and you stared back. Then, he looked away.

"Well, that was weird," you said to Hermione as you finished the food you had on your plate.

Hermione just nodded in agreement.

"Hey, Hermione?" You asked.

"Mm?" She said as she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Remind me to tell you something later, once we're in the girl's dormitories. I don't want Ron and Harry freaking out, so I'm not gonna tell them. Kay?" Hermione just nodded.

"Hey, Harry! What's that?" You suddenly said with an excited gasp and as you pointed to something at the opposite end of the room where he wasn't looking.

"What? What is it, Lyd?" He asked, turning around to see whatever it was you had been pointing at, Ron following suit. As soon as his back was turned, you snatched his spoon which had the last of his mashed potatoes on it and stuck it in your mouth, quickly gulping them down and just letting the spoon stick out of your mouth.

"I don't see anything, Lyd," Harry said as he turned back around. "Hey!" He gasped, realizing what you had done. "My mashed potatoes! You stole my last spoonful!"

You grinned as innocently as you could with a spoon sticking out of your mouth, which must've looked funny because it got your friends laughing. "Sowwy, Hawwy," you repented, grinning. "I jus coul'n wesis."

"Here," Harry said and pulled his spoon out of your mouth. "Now you should be able to talk properly. And you owe me a spoonful of mashed potatoes!"

"Alright," you said with a shrug and pulled his spoon out of his hand. Quickly, you stole a spoonful of mashed potatoes from Ron and handed it to Harry. "There you go, Harry. Now I don't owe you."

"Mms mher mmn!" Ron said through a mouthful of food. "Mmu mo mm!"

You couldn't help but giggle and say "Sorry, Ron, but none for you!"

"Mm's mot mair!"

"Swallow before you speak, Ronald," Hermione said with a sigh.

Quickly, Ron swallowed his food, almost choked, and said, "That's not fair!"

"Whoever said it had to be?" You said with a grin. Ron just opened his mouth and closed it again, at a loss for words.

After everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore stood again and walked over to whatever it was four of the staff members had set before the staff table.
"Your attention, please!" Dumbledore said and silence instantly fell over the hall. "I'd like to say a few words." He rest his hand on the tiered object. "Eternal glory. That's what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

"Wicked," you heard George and Fred say in unison.

"For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch." With that, a man with a small mustache and graying hair that sat neatly in place, who had been sitting at the staff table, came to stand beside Dumbledore. As he did so, the enchanted ceiling showed the lightning that was flashing outside of the castle. Almost everyone in the hall began to panic and scream when suddenly, a person appeared from one of the doors on either side of the staff table, pointed their wand at the ceiling, and cast a spelled that returned the enchanted ceiling back to normal.

You leaned forward to get a better look and you saw an old man with dirty brown hair, a mouth puckered small like he had tasted something sour, and a some weird eye patch over his left eye from which an eye that looked unnatural protruded.

"Bloody hell. It's Mad-Eye Moody," Ron whispered.

"Alastor Moody?" Hermione asked. "The auror?"

"Auror?" Dean, Seamus' friend, asked in confusion.

"Dark-wizard catcher," Ron explained. "Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him. He's supposed to be mad as a hatter, though, these days."

Mad-Eye Moody began to walk toward Dumbledore, using a walking stick to help the limp he had. For a moment, as he did so, you could have sworn his crazy eye landed on Harry, then yourself. You could see words exchanged between the two as Dumbledore and Mad-Eye shook hands. Afterwards, Mad-Eye walked off into a corner by himself and took a swig from a flask he had taken from his robes.

"What's that he's drinking, do you suppose?" Seamus asked no one in particular.

"I don't know," Harry said, "but I don't think it's pumpkin juice."

Just then, Bartemius Crouch stood in front of the hall and spoke. "After due consideration," he began, "the Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to enter the Triwizard Tournament." Groans and shouts went up all over the hall as those who wanted to compete in the Tournament found out they could not. "This decision is final," Barty Crouch said, speaking over the noise.

"That's rubbish!" You heard Fred and George shout, like the many people around them were doing. "That's rubbish! You don't know what you're doing!"

Suddenly, Dumbledore came up to stand beside Crouch. "Silence!" He bellowed, and there was. He took out his wand and pointed it at the tiered object that still stood in front of the staff table and it began to melt away until there was only a giant goblet left. As he finished the spell, blue flames erupted from the goblet.

"The Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore said. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there's no turning back. As from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."

You, Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, talking about the happenings of the feast and the Triwizard Tournament. Finally, the four of you decided it was time for bed and you each went your separate ways to your respective dormitories.

As you and Hermione found your beds, which where right next to each others, the two of you began to change into your pajamas.

"So, Lydia," Hermione said as she sat on your bed next to you. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Promise you won't freak? Or think I'm crazy?" You asked her. "Or tell the boys about what I saw? or think I saw?"

"I promise," Hermione said and squeezed your hand gently.

"Remember on the train?" You asked quietly. "The thing with Malfoy?"

Hermione nodded and motioned for you to continue.

"Well, I think he showed some emotion other than his stuck-up, pompous, better-than-thou, annoying attitude like he usually does. When I made that comment about Parkinson being 'just that ugly', I swear, I thought I saw him smile for a second. And then, when I told him to go fuck himself, I thought his eyes showed a slight look of hurt. Hurt, Hermione! Him, hurt!"

Your friend just stared at you in disbelief then said, "That's kind of hard to believe, but it is possible."

You shook your head. "This is Malfoy we're talking about, Hermione. Since when does that weasel-faced punk feel anything other than hate, loathing, and a disgusting love for himself?"

Hermione just shook her head as she moved to her bed and crawled under the covers. "I don't know, Lydia. I just don't know..."

"Well, g'night, Hermione," you said and crawled under your own covers.

"Good night, Lydia," Hermione replied as she blew out her candle. Copying her, you doused your candle and curled up underneath your blankets.

Thinking back to the train ride and during dinner, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander to Draco Malfoy. For some reason, he seemed to be acting differently toward you, and it confused you. Was he trying to pull some elaborate prank on you? Or was he trying to make you let your gaurd down, then he'd hurt you when you were most vulnerable? Or was he really attempting to be... nice? It confounded you to no end. As these thoughts and others swirled in your mind, you fell into a deep sleep.

*Draco's P.O.V.*

You sat on one of the couches in the Slytherin common room and stared into the fireplace, lost in thought. Your mind was on Lydia Reynell, the girl you used to hate, but that hate had simmered down to a mere dislike. Now, for some reason, when you talked to her, you couldn't be completely mean to her and tell her that she was an ugly little mudblood who was just mucking up the wizardry world for the pure bloods. Instead, you had thought it funny when she insulted Pansy, you had felt hurt when she told you to go fuck yourself, you didn't know why you had lied to the prefect to cover up what was really going on, and it had made you... happy... when she shook you hand and smiled at you ever so slightly. You just didn't know what was going on with yourself.

You were still thinking when you felt someone come sit beside you and wrap their arms around you. You knew in an instant it was Pansy as she tried to kiss you. Quickly, you pried her arms off of you and pushed her away.

"Drakie-poo," Pansy whined with that annoying voice of hers. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"Quit calling me that," you said, annoyed with her. "And I've never loved you, Pansy. We're not dating anymore. We never were. Now get the hell over it and leave me the fuck alone." You got up off of the couch and was headed for the boy's dormitories when you felt Pansy wrap her arms around you again. You spun around to tell her off, when suddenly, she pressed her lips against yours. Again, you pushed her away and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, disgust filling your whole body.

"I told you to leave me the fuck alone, Pansy! I don't love you! I hate you!" You practically shouted. Everyone in the common room stopped what they where doing and turned to stare at you.

"What the bloody hell are you lot looking at?" You asked, annoyed. Most just muttered something and looked away, but a few kept staring.

"I'm going to sleep," you muttered angrily to yourself, then stormed upstairs to your dormitory. Laying down on your bed, you wished it had been someone else kissing you. Wished there was someone to kiss you now and make the feeling of filth you had on your lips go away. Slipping into the grip of sleep, you wished it was Lydia...