Contagious, a harry potter fanfic

Contagious

By: Etern

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and etc and etc and etc and etc.

Pairing: Draco/Hermione

Song: Contagious by Trapt.

A/N: I love this song! 3. When I first heard it I immediately thought of Draco and Hermione just because they would have a…unconventional love, ha. And thus this story came about. I hope you like it, and be sure to check out the song!

Draco Malfoy had never in his life been so exceptionally bored. Hell, with all the money his family had, it was hard not to be bored really. He had never really seen the phrase money can not buy happiness as anything true before. He had always been happy at purchasing the latest broomstick, or simply flaunting his money in new textbooks and state of the art magic machines and devices. It had always brought him joy to hold something new in his arms a month ago—what was different now?

As he stared around him at all the fancy items adorning his dorm, made especially for him, at Hogwarts, something had changed. There was…nothing to do. And although it was not an uncommon thing, what was uncommon was that he did not feel like rectifying such boredom through the usual means—i.e. shopping. In fact he felt that the thought of buying things was simply boring, which made no further sense to him.

Could it be that he was actually…sick of his money? Could it be that he wanted more than just dollar bills…?

He was seventeen years old, a 7th year at Hogwarts—in another year all the money would be added to his inheritance and he would take control of the finances. For years he had counted down to it, the day that all that money became his to own. He had counted down to it, only to find in the end that all that excitement he had felt over it in the past seemed rather…dull now, as though he had simply been excited for the sake of being excited.

Which he knew in his heart was the absolute truth.

When, a little voice fervently whispered into the back of his head, have you ever been excited for real? When have you ever lived outside of being your last name—a Malfoy?

Draco spent a long sleepless night contemplating the voice's words, the words that he could not seem to understand came from his heart.

At the end of the night, when the sun started to make first light, he still did not have an answer.

I was sick of restrictions, sick of the boundaries
About to close the door
Such a lack of conviction, no real connection
What should I settle for?

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment that he began to observe her differently. It could have been when she bent down to retrieve a book that had fallen from her slim arms, or when she looked over at him, just once, with a passion of hate setting her eyes aflame. He could not pinpoint the moment, the damn time when he began to see Hermione Granger differently, but he knew for a fact that things could never be the same.

But you caught my attention, you built on the tension
And you left me wanting more

He hated himself for it, of course. She had always been his enemy, she had always just been the Mudblood with the bushy hair and beaver teeth. Why should that change now? He tried to get her out of his mind, god did he try. He started dating Pansy Parkinson in the hopes that the Slytherin girl would erase all thoughts of the golden haired Gryffindor.

It only seemed to make it worse. Every time he leaned into kiss Pansy, Granger's face, flushed in anger, danced wickedly beneath his eyelids. Every time he pulled Pansy closer and began to expose her skin, he could only imagine Granger's golden skin.

He thought he was going mad.

It must have been the boredom; it must have been his sense for adventure.

He tried to repress it; he bought everything he could find in the stores.

Then he went home and threw it all away.

What was wrong with him? His brain kept screaming.

Why her? Why…Granger?

His heart stayed silent. His skin itched.

Now I don't know what to do with myself, do with myself
I don't want nobody else
--

He watched her nearly everyday, and knew that it could not go on. More than once she had caught his staring, and had scowled darkly at him. A familiar face that this time, unlike the past, he could not look away from. It was pathetic how he could not tear his eyes away from hers, revolting how he was entranced by the flecks of gold that seemed to glow in the pits of her irises, or by the way she wrinkled her lightly freckled nose when she was frustrated. He could not look away from her, even though he tried, god he tried.

She began to notice. Her scowls began to change into looks of confusion, the fire in her eyes dimming but not fading. It could never fade and as long as it didn't fade, he was entranced. Sometimes he wanted more than anything to just put it out. Would that end the strange spell she had over him?

One day, she finally approached him. She said nothing for awhile, simply stared at him. He could not will his voice to work. At length, he heard the question that had long been in the making.

"What do you want from me Malfoy?"

Everything.

His voice could not work but his mouth could. He gave her no chance to pull away, no chance to breathe—just like she had given him.

One day, his lips at long last met hers.

From there the infection spread.

I let you in, I let you in, and you infected me
Can't get enough of you, can't get enough of you
I breathed you in, I breathed you in, and now I'm in too deep
Don't think I'm pulling through, don't think I'm pulling through
Can't get enough of you, can't get enough of you

She was the one to pull away, her face flushed in a way he had only seen when she was angry. Kissing her had been a much better way to bring it to her face. She was trembling as she tried to pull herself out of his arms; he only tightened them.

Inside his chest his heart was racing in a way that it never had before and the blood in his veins was hot and running. In all his life, Draco Malfoy had never felt such a high. It was infuriating to his pride that Granger had been the one to bring it out but pride be damned—now that he found it, now that he let her in, he could not let her go.

"Why?" she had whispered her warm breath over his neck. "Why…?"

His answer was one neither expected. "I don't know why." And he didn't, he really didn't. He only knew that she made him feel good, and it was all he needed for the time being.

She did not try to move from his arms again. A tear feel soundlessly from her cheek as he devoured her mouth again, not caring that she was still in his arms, uncaring that her lips were still against his.

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, and could not get enough.

You're so contagious
Running through my veins
--

It was the only time that Draco Malfoy suddenly found himself dependent on someone else. He hated himself for it, he hated her for it, but he could not stop needing her all of a sudden, not when she got his heart racing.

It was so dangerous, and so tantalizing. They said nothing to each other, although she had stopped giving him glares of hate. They always looked at one another, and he stopped insulting her. Was it a silent comradely?

He did not think so; he did not think at all in her presence, when they were alone and he dragged her behind the shelves for a kiss. Her lips were always so sweet to him, sweetened with the taste of the forbidden. When he kissed her he was not Draco Malfoy but just a simple boy longing for attention, for some thrill in his too boring life.

If Hermione realized she was a thrill she never said anything. Sometimes, she would even kiss him back.

Sometimes, as he pulled away to leave she would pull him closer by his robes and give him one last kiss, a simple peck on the lips. Even that managed to get his blood singing.

He would return to his rooms and tear the clothes off his body, trying to remind himself that this was a Mudblood he had touched, and not just Hermione. That somehow she had infected him with her filth, with her ways, and she was slowly killing him.

He went to bed relishing the taste of her still on his tongue and dreaming dreamless dreams where he was always falling.

You're so contagious
Holding onto every word
You're so contagious
And I can't get away

It became a habit he could not break. He would follow her when she was alone to the libraries anytime he could and there he would find her, predictably stashed away in the archives section, all alone, and kiss her, hold her close and feel her heartbeat against his. She made his own heart feel as though it was beating.

He was not sure how long it went on, their little meetings that he hated to love. All he knew was when it began to change, their wayward routine. He had been the one to change it.

He had been holding her in his arms, alone in the library right before it closed. She was relaxed in his arms; her forehead was comforting and heavy against his shoulder. The peace was there, oddly, swirling between the tangible emotions between them, knotting them together. He had picked through the knots, and his hands were bleeding.

"Granger," he whispered; he felt her jump at his voice; his own heart jumped in response. His mouth was dry as she slowly lifted her dark eyes, her face very pale so that the faint freckled on her nose stood out, marring her skin. He wanted to brush them away; he wanted to rip them away.

She stared up at him, very still, very quiet. Her eyes seemed to burn a hole into his.

His voice was a faint whisper, caught in the soft skin of her face as she leaned closer; or was he leaning down?

"Granger, what have you done to me…?"

Her dark eyes seemed to glow, catlike, that inner fire that had caught him like a moth to the flame flaring. Her lips were hot against his as they moved, but his heart still caught her words.

"Malfoy, what have you done to me?"

And then she was kissing him, for the first time, and the relief he felt at it stabbed through him like a knife to the chest. Stabbing endlessly, and he found that he only wanted more and more and more.

There was no going back now.

You're so contagious
And now I know for sure there is no cure
--

How much was too much? They spent their nights together, curled up in some unused part of the school. At first it was just for kissing; at first to Draco it was just a thrill, sneaking out to meet the girl who was supposed to be one of his worst enemies. In a way, she still was.

He could not understand what she had done to him to make him want her of all people, and he was always suspicious when he wasn't around her. But when he was around her everything else seemed to just die away until it was just them, Draco and Hermione. Never Malfoy and Granger.

He supposed that it was his own fault that things got too deep; he had never once pulled back, and although more than once a day he asked himself what the hell was wrong with him, one look at her, in the hallways, the classrooms, behind the shelves in the library, and he suddenly felt as though his life, always so boring, was perfect. Was perfect so long as the fiery Hermione Granger was there to make his heart pound, was there to make him feel alive again.

How much was too much?

Some nights he didn't want to let her go. It scared him; he wondered if it scared her. Around her he always felt as though he were feverish, his skin heated, his limbs heavy. He wondered if she felt the same way.

Too much came when he asked her.

"Hey," the air was still around them; her head did not move from his chest but he knew that she was listening. She always listened. "Tell me, do you feel…odd around me?"

It was a question that seemed to stun them both for a moment. They had never really talked before, about anything. They had always just held each other, kissed, felt one another's heated skin. But talking? It seemed to break the anonymity of their clandestine meetings; it seemed to bring back the entire reality of their situation.

"Odd?" she muttered back, into his shirt. She did not look up at him. "What…do you mean?"

He wanted to tell her that that was it—that he didn't know that it meant, not at all. He wanted to tell her that he hated it, and he wanted to tell her that he could not get enough of it. He wanted to tell her so many things, too many things. Too much.

His heart was pounding again—it only ever seemed to around her. He could never tell her in words. She still did not look up at him.

So instead he leaned down, tilted her face up and captured her lips again, almost desperately, hoping that through this she would understand.

He could tell by the feel of hot salt on her lips and cheeks that she did.

Too much. Not enough.

I saw your intentions, I gave you permission,
Go ahead and start the war
I was out of addictions, by my own admission,
Oh I've been keeping score
But you made an exception, you taught me a lesson
Who cares where I've been before?
You would never leave me all by myself, all by myself
You don't want nobody else
--

Draco could not use the excuse that it had all just been an experiment now. Although he still tried, god he tried. As a Malfoy he had always been a great liar. When confronted with the furious Blaise, he hoped that his skills would be enough.

"Draco, what the fuck?! Granger? Granger?"

Draco stared at him, unblinking, unruffled, as though the sound of her last name on his tongue did not make him feel sick. He kept his face perfectly cool as he answered, as though he really was in control of the entire situation.

"Yes Blaise, Hermione Granger. But don't worry, it won't last long. She's just a toy, something daring to play with. Nothing more."

It was a good excuse; or was it an excuse at all?

Malfoys had always been good liars; but could they ever tell a lie from the truth?

Blaise stared at him, his dark eyes narrowed. He wanted to say more, Draco could tell. He wanted to tell him all about the dangers of getting involved with a Mudblood, all about the shame it brought, the pain it would end in.

He wanted to tell Draco all these things, but with a single look Draco beat him to it.

"I know," he simply said, hoping to leave it at that. "I know, Blaise."

Blaise stared at him mutely for a long minute, his lips parting. Draco looked away, over to the window. It would snow soon, and the world would be changed in white grace.

He heard Blaise sit down; he listened to him exhale.

"If you know Draco, then…why?"

Draco had known that this question would come too, only this time he had no definite answer. He wanted to lie, but somehow it just didn't seem like enough. What was enough?

It started to snow when he answered, sitting all alone in the common room, staring into the empty fireplace.

He answered only for himself.

"Because she's infected me."

The weather changed, and with it the agony tearing him apart reached a new height.

He had been with her for so long now; he knew too much about her. He knew that her favorite color was blue, her favorite music was pop, he knew that she liked having her hair down and it was impossible for her to make it less frizzy, simply because it was the way that she was. Everything about her was so simple, when he thought about it. Everything about her was plain and yet…it was not boring. Not to him, not at all.

It made no sense. He thought that getting to know Granger would end this odd attraction he felt for her; he had never expected that knowing her would only make it all deepen.

You're so contagious
Running through my veins
You're so contagious
Holding onto every word

Her words caught him in a way that did not make sense. Even when she talked to him about her homework he felt his attention caught, felt his heart start to shudder in his chest. His mind fought him, god did it fight him, along with his last name.

Some nights he would make up a lie so that he would not have to see her, and spend the night thinking and thinking and thinking. In the morning, he had nothing other than the agitating idea that he had missed her, and he wanted to claw his traitorous heart out for it.

Because that was just it, wasn't it? Draco Malfoy was starting to get a heart. Draco Malfoy was starting to feel. It could not happen, and yet…under her dark gaze, in her words, her lips, he could not stop it.

He was falling, and she was under his skin, in his veins now, in the blood of his father, eating away at him.

He wondered sometimes, as he held her warm body in his trembling arms, what would be left of him in the end.

--
You're so contagious
And I can't get away
You're so contagious
And now I know for sure there is no cure
--

One night, under the cover of his arms, she had changed the topic to the only thing they did not discuss at all, aside from his family. It had seemed so perfect, so perfect to, his veins burning under his skin.

"Draco what…are we?"

The fire in his veins hurt, hurt so bad. He wanted to claw his chest out as his heart stuttered.

"What do you…mean?" his voice was anything but calm.

Oh he knew exactly what she meant. Oh, he knew exactly what she wanted. Deep inside he was screaming as he realized, with a beat to the chest, that it was what he wanted too.

"I mean are we a…couple? Our relationship…" she said it anyway, and they both tensed at the words.

The flames were covering him, smothering him. He wanted to break free, as he pushed her away from him. He wanted to run as she looked up at him with those large eyes of light and fire that he burned and burned in. He hissed at her.
--

I am burning in your fire

There is no cure

I have only one desire

"What do you want from me?" he found himself all but screaming at her, his voice thunderous, his voice breaking more than once.

What can I possibly give you…?

She was trembling lightly; inside his chest his heart trembled with her and the fury that he had only reserved for himself came out in words that not even he could make sense of.

"What the hell do you want me to say? You're the one who started this! You're the one who fucking did everything!"

Her cheeks were flushing, his insides were burning. He felt lightheaded, he felt dizzy at her hardened gaze. His chest was cracking in pain.

"What do you mean it was me?" she yelled back, "You're the one who kissed me!"

He was desperate, he was sweating, he could not breathe. He met her glare for glare as he heaved in breath to resist the urge to kiss all her anger, all her fire away, to smother her. "Only because you tempted me!"

She paused, breathing erratic. The air echoed with their words, filling up the stone walls with so many other unsaid things. Was this the point of no return?

Now I don't know what to do with myself

Do with myself

"Tempted you?" she repeated, so softly that he winced. "How ever did a Mudblood like me tempt the great Draco Malfoy?"

His heart was going to give out, he was sure. Her words were worse than any physical wound, poison in his veins to his heart. He grit his teeth in a fury that was borne of confusion.

"I don't fucking know! At first you were just there and I was bored—"

He stopped himself too late. Her face was pale, her eyes wet. He wanted to punch himself in the face as much as he wanted to shake her in his arms.

She said nothing, only watched him. A tear went down her right cheek, a stain on a person he could only now see as perfect. Too much, it was too much, the pain in his chest.

He let her struggle as with a strangled moan he pulled her to him, right back to his arms. She hit him, she sobbed, and he held her still silently, letting her tears burn into him. Were they a cure to his pain? The clenching in his heart only seemed to grow worse.

"You won't get out of me, Granger," he whispered roughly in her ear. His arms tightened until he was sure that it hurt. "I don't know what the hell you've done to me, but you won't leave me, ever."

She went still in his arms. The tears continued to fall in paths of fire. "Should I say I'm sorry?" she whispered spitefully, her teeth scraping his neck. "Should I apologize for something I didn't mean to ever do? I was fine before you came along Malfoy, I was fine."

But I wasn't.

"Damn you Granger…" he growled, and with a strength that surprised him she pushed out of his arms, her eyes still wet, her eyes glowing. He could not repress his moan.

"You think that you're the only one affected? Dammit Malfoy! You won't get out of me either! You…" She paused, staring up at him. Her tears had stopped but they left faint marks on her cheeks he wanted to lick away with his tongue. "I asked you when this first began why and…you never answered me. You've never answered me. Let's try this again, Draco Malfoy—why?"

He could not breathe. "Why what?"

Her gaze darkened, his skin itched, his chest burned. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I told you," he whispered, and had to shut his eyes. The image of her was too much. "You tempted me."

"That I did, somehow, yes. But what about now Draco? Do you still see me as an interesting toy?"

Malfoys were liars by nature; Malfoys never let anyone overtake them. But that was a Malfoy; this was Draco.

The words were right there, the answer right beneath his heart. He kept his eyes closed. The infection was too strong; she had become too strong.

I can not deny her

There is no cure

I have only one desire

I don't know what to do with myself, do with myself.

"No. Granger—Hermione. You're…not a toy." The words stung his throat.

"Then what am I to you, Draco?" She was pressing down on his chest, killing his heart beat by beat.

"You're my…My…my infection and dammit I don't…" His head was spinning, her face was all there was. The point of no return. The Malfoy blood boiled in his veins. "I don't want you to go away!"

I don't want no body else.

Her eyes were wet again, wide and feasting on him. He wanted to die as much as he wanted to hold her closer and closer so that maybe then she would be a part of him.

"Draco," she said his name breathlessly, eyes unblinking. A single tear fell. "Do you really…mean that?"

His chest was caving as with a sigh of defeat he gave himself to her, no longer denying them both as he held her closer and closer, and whispered into her wild untamable hair, "I do. You've infected me too much and as much as I hate you for it, what ever you have done to me, Granger… You have to be mine, now."

It was an order that she answered by sealing her lips with his.

There were no more whys, no more questions as he gave into her lips, like always, and let her spread throughout him, let her control the beat of his heart.

Can't get enough of you, can't get enough of you.

Draco Malfoy could no longer deny Hermione Granger, or his feelings for her. Such an infection, he knew, as he gave her one final kiss goodnight, had to be made of something more than lust, something as raging as fire.

But Draco Malfoy didn't mind his infection, not as he felt his heartbeat, where only she resided. He did not mind at all.

Draco Malfoy had never in his life been so exceptionally happy.

You keep running through my veins.

Oddly it had more fluff than I wanted but oh well. Feel free to leave a review and I promise you won't get an infection!…wow, that just set off my dirty thoughts, hehe.