Touchaphobia

by Tiny Q

Draco is a touchaphobe(He doesn’t like to be touched). Pansy’s a malicious toucher, Ginny’s an excessive hugger and the Trio think it’s funny. What does it all mean? Snogs, that’s what! DG

Title: Touchaphobia

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N:  Well, this is slightly based off of my own case of touchaphobia, as my friends like to call it.  I keep telling them that I am not a touchaphobe and that I just don't like to be touched.  So somehow I got the idea that Draco should be a touchaphobe too.  Why should I suffer alone??  But I couldn't figure out how to finish it so it was sitting there for a while until I finally got an idea.  This is so far off from what I initially thought of that it's not even funny.  Bah.  But it is mildly amusing.  Even if all the characters are pretty OOC.  Oh well.  Hope you find it at least slightly entertaining.

Disclaimer:  I own nothing but the plot.  My friends and I own the word "touchaphobe" for we, well rather Gin Chan, invented it.  And just so I clear this up now, all references to people who think they know who they are, this means nothing.  So no reading between the lines!  And if you take offense I will hit you my stick then gnaw on your legs!  Ha!

Touchaphobia

~*~

What you need to know:

- Haphephobia or Haptephobia- Fear of being touched.

- Philemaphobia or Philematophobia- Fear of kissing.
And just because it amuses me:

- Bibliophobia- Fear of books

- Dendrophobia- Fear of trees.

- Lutraphobia- Fear of otters.

~*~

You should ever tell people that you are a touchaphobe because then they seem to take a malicious pleasure in touching you.

~*~

            Draco Malfoy veered right, avoiding a large heard of students.  He still couldn't figure out why people insisted on taking up the length of an entire hall to make their way down it.  Was it really necessary for twelve people to walk in a straight line?  Couldn't they walk in rows of two or three?  Would four even be an option?  But apparently it wasn't.  And he had to brush past them.

            Draco repressed a shudder, trying with all his might not to let his Slytherin bad boy image crumble apart as he felt the warmth of the person he brushed.  To Draco this was the worst feeling in the world.  Even pain would be better than this because pain wasn't like something bothering you.  Pain was more concrete.  But this, this was like a fly flying around your head and no matter how much you swat at it, the bloody thing just won't go away.  And the more you think about it the more you hate it.  The more you want it to go away.  Desperately.

            Yet as to why Draco had come to feel this way about physical contact was quite beyond him.  He had his suspicions that it could have been a lack of proper hugs from his parents when he was a child.  Or it could have been an excessive amount of cuddling from his grandparents and other relatives.  You know the kind, the ones who like to toss small children into the air, just so that they will get to crush them in a hug at the end.  Or it simply could have been, and Draco suspected this was the best reason, that he was insane. 

            But the whole idea of not wanting to be touched didn't really bother Draco at first.  So what was so wrong about not liking it?  It didn't hurt anyone, in fact, it really prevented him from hurting others physically.  Of course, this made his verbal attacks much more vicious, but he didn't really care.  He had found himself thinking along these lines for quite a while.  Until he found the book that is. 

            He still wasn't quite sure how he had come across it, but he had.  And what it had said to him was that he suffered from tactile stress.  Upon further reading he discovered that there really wasn't a cure for it.  That the worse sufferers would have to go into therapy just to get themselves convinced that it really wasn't that big of a deal.  And then the stupid thing had given him some tips to help overcome his dislike.  For example: When someone bumps into in a crowded space, they don't mean.  Now to this Draco then thought that he didn't care if they meant it or not, they still touched him.

            Just remembering this, caused Draco to double his efforts in attempting to avoid people in the halls.  He was really beginning to suspect that he needed to find different routes to places, because the excessive amount of people was ridiculous.  Like that horde of Hufflepuffs over there.  Did they really need to hold each other's hands while they walked down the hall?

            Draco hadn't always felt this way though, or at least as far as he could remember.  He had once liked to sit in his mum's lap and listen to her read to him.  Or cling to his grandfather's leg as the man tried to walk somewhere.  Or just sit beside his dad while the man listened to the radio from the couch in his study.  But now, now he wasn't like that.  It seemed to be a recent trend as well for he could really only remember the idea of it being a concern for the past year or so.  But it was getting steadily worse.  Much much worse.  And he still had no idea what the catalyst was.

            "Draco!" Pansy suddenly shrieked, as he waited in line to get into the Great Hall for breakfast.  He started slightly at the sound of her voice then almost jerked violently when her arms suddenly clamped their way around his right arm, sending that horrid, annoying feeling running ramped about his body and head.  "How are you?"

            "Fine," he said stiffly, trying to pry his arm free of her grasp.  It was amazing how strong the girl was.  He suspected she worked out.  Yet he knew she was doing this just to annoy him.  She knew how much he disliked when she touched him for he had told her off on several occasions.  Unfortunately, the pug faced girl seemed to find amusement in her torments and continued them with sadistic pleasure.

            It was then, when Draco was trying to pry the clamp like arms off his own, that something occurred to him.  That perhaps it was her annoying need to touch him that was driving him to keep away from contact all together.  But that was just silly.  How could she have such power over him?  And then something else occurred to him:  She was a malicious toucher.

~*~

            Ginny Weasley was standing next to what was left of the DA when she heard Harry suddenly burst out laughing.  All present turned to look at him, yet could find no real reason for the depressed boy to suddenly have an outburst of glee.

            "What's so funny?" Luna asked, holding onto her sorta boyfriend's hand.  It was "sorta" because her and Neville dated on and off constantly.  They would be all lovey-dovey for a day then go back to just friends the next for the duration of a week to get together for a month.  It was very odd, so people had taken to calling them sorta going out.  It seemed at the moment they were closer to the going out part than anything else.

            Harry continued to laugh in big, booming tones for a moment more then gestured with his head to their right.  "The look on Malfoy's face!"  He snorted out some more laughs.  "It looks as though he's going to gnaw off his arm just to get away from her."

            "Well wouldn't you?" Ron scoffed, eyeing the struggling blonde with barely contained joy.  Ginny rolled her eyes.  She didn't think her brother would ever get over his dislike of that guy.  Ever.  "I mean of you had that hanging off of you?"

            "Ron," Hermione snapped, hitting him in the arm.  Ron glowered at her, but seemed to keep his mouth shut.  Ginny still marveled at the Head Girl's ability to keep her boyfriend in line.  It was a little scary.  Especially since Ginny had never so much as managed to make the boy move let alone obey her.

            The bushy haired girl looked at the Slytherin prefect with a slight frown.  "You know," she said slowly, moving forward with the rest of them to get into the dinning hall.  "It's almost as though he doesn't like to be touched."

            "How do you know?" Neville asked, glancing around before taking his usual seat and guiding Luna down next to him. 

            "Well," Hermione said slowly.  "I've seen Pansy cling to many other boys before and that is the most sever face I have ever seen a guy give off.  And that says something because it's stone faced Malfoy who seems ready to sever a limb."

            "Are you saying Malfoy's a touchaphobe, Herm?" Harry asked with a scrunched up face, causing Ginny to giggle at his expense.  He thought it was at his joke however and beamed at her.

            "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Hermione scoffed, drinking her pumpkin juice.  "Besides, it's called Haphephobia."  At the blank looks she received she elaborated: "It means he's scared to be touched."

            "Well that just takes all the fun out of it," Ron said darkly.

            "I don't think so," his girlfriend replied in an offhanded matter.  Then she grinned at him in a way that was like the antithesis of Hermione.  "Supposedly the only way to cure the phobia is to submit the patient to various amounts of touching for different lengths of time."

            "I like the sound of that," Harry said darkly, his eyes beginning to glint with a plan.  Ginny glanced to her brother and saw that her brother was getting the very same glint in his own blue eyes.  Ginny didn't even dare to glance at Hermione.  She didn't want to know if the older girl was participating in another round of Torment the Ferret.

            Letting out a small sigh she reached for a piece of toast.  The three of them simply had not tact when it came to tormenting people.  None at all.  And compared to the twins they were a joke.  The kind of joke where you would slap your knee until you got a bruise.  Ginny felt a feeling of melon collie wash over her, wishing for the good old days when the twins would include her in their mischief.  They had been fun times.  But they were gone now and she was left to eavesdropping on the unsuspecting residents of Hogwarts and keeping her mischievous tendencies under wraps as best she could as she followed the Dream Team about.  But it was getting old.  Fast.

            With another sigh she glanced over at the Slytherin table.  The blonde that was currently in discussion was sitting with his usual posy, but there was something slightly odd about the way he was sitting.  It was as though he was trying to sit away from those around him, but doing it sneakily so no one else would notice that there was a buffer around him.  But it didn't seem to really work because the people around him were pact together like sardines in a can while he sat there with a good half a foot between himself and the persons next to him. 

            Ginny smirked slightly.  'Perhaps he really is a touchaphobe,' she thought with slight amusement.  It's not like she really cared about the git.  Apart from that hex she had used on him two years ago, she hadn't even noticed he existed.  Oh sure, she heard the stories from the Dream Team and co, but never had any of her own stories to share.  And she wasn't about to go and find herself some.  But now, perhaps there could be opportunity to get rid of some of her built up energies. 

            It might be a bit difficult however for the whole idea of someone being afraid of being touched was far beyond her grasp.  How could anyone not like hugs?  It was just bizarre.  She herself loved hugs.  The more the better.  In fact, if Draco would have known about her liking of hugs, he would have deemed her an excessive hugger.  Or in laymen's terms: a person who hugs others too much. 

            But Ginny really was, actually.  She was always told by random family members when they made their re-acquaintance that when she was young it was impossible not to receive a hug from her.  This was mainly because she would launch herself at her victim, crying: "Huggies!"  She didn't really remember this.  She didn't think she wanted to.

            Breakfast didn't last too long and before Ginny knew it, she was on her way to Potions.  It was going to be a fun day with a double class with her most beloved teacher.  But no matter how much she should have been dreading the event, she couldn't bring herself to care.  No, and it was because she had a certain blonde on her mind.  How could he not like hugs?  And another little question was floating about as well: how could she take advantage of this?

            It seemed however, that the more she thought about the Slytherin's apparent touchaphobia, the more it made sense.  Ever since his father had been condemned to Azkaban, the boy seemed to have fallen.  Not that she really cared all together, in fact it kept him off her back.  But the simple fact that he no longer threw insults left and right was a touch disturbing.  It was almost as if the guy had no honest idea of what he should be.  Good or evil.  It would truly be a simple question to her, but she realized that to him it was much different.  He had been raised to be evil.  Or at least that was what she had all extrapolated from various conversations.  She sometimes impressed herself with what she could find out. 

            So all these issues of his and decisions must be screwing with his head.  Making simple things out to be terrible and perhaps vice versa.  Ginny suddenly felt herself smirk.  Yes, she understood the prey.  Now all she had to do was figure out how to catch it...

            "Miss. Weasley," Snape's voice suddenly sliced through her mind, causing her to focus in on the slimy git's face.  "Ten points for staring at me funny.  Now get to work!"

            With a silent groan, Ginny got to work, all the while planning and plotting in ways that would have made the twins beam with pride.

~*~

            Draco let out a sigh of relief as he sat himself at a table in the library.  It was his spot really, used for its ability to take him away from other people.  Not that it physically moved him in any way, but no one ever came to this area of the library, despite its lovely array of windows.  And he had had plenty of time to learn to appreciate their beauty.

            He knew he was being anti-social, but he didn't really care.  Whatever could give him a break from his house, from people, from Pansy, was ultimately a good thing in the end.  Especially if it got him away from her.

            He was beginning to seriously consider the fact that she was the reason he was like this.  The reason why he found it so irritating to be touched by people.  But then wouldn't anybody if at random intervals the individual received pets, pats and was subjected to clinging limbs for no reason other than the toucher "felt like it"?  That was exactly why the pug faced girl grabbed onto him, because she "felt like it".  But it seemed to Draco that it was perhaps more than that seeing as she grabbed onto any guy she seemed to feel like grabbing onto.  It was beginning to make him think something that was probably true but he didn't want to go there.

            Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out his homework, spreading it across the table and began to scribble at a piece of parchment that would soon display his Transfiguration essay.  He was just musing to himself about how unoriginal the professors were, always giving essays, when someone sat down across from him.

            Draco glared up at the offender, preparing to tell whoever it was off, but found his words caught in his throat.  It was a Weasley across from him.  And not just any Weasley.  No.  It was the one that had humiliated him in his moment of leadership.  It was the one who always walked about as though she was high and mighty despite the fact that she was wearing robes that should not have been considered anything but rags, let alone articles of clothing.  It was the one with the long hair and annoyingly attractive freckles across her nose.  It was the female Weasley.  The attractive one.

            "What do you want?" he sneered at her, hoping that if he glared long enough she would go away.  That her distracting looks would leave.  She simply frowned back at him, brushing her long hair from her eyes.

            "Well hello to you too," she sneered back, pulling her bag from up off the ground and placing it on the chair next to her.  "And I don't want anything from you."  She paused.  "And it's not like you have much to give anyways."
            "And what do you mean by that?" he demanded in a drawl, watching as the girl began to pull out a book.  Well it was a novel really.  One of those cheap ones with paintings of scantily clad couples in various stages of courtship.  This particular one seemed well past the aforementioned stage and had moved straight into a steamy make out scene.  Draco frowned at it in disgust.  "How can you read that crap?" he asked before really realizing he was saying it.

            "To answer your first question, you're a cold heartless git," she opened her book and leant back into her chair, not looking at him.  "And to your second, it's quite simple."  And with that she stopped talking, her eyes beginning to travel back and forth as she read the words in the book.

            Draco stared at her, not quite sure if he should hex her or simply continue to stare.  The latter option seemed to win out in the end, for that was just what he did.  'I am not a cold hearted git,' he thought angrily.  Sure, he had heard it before, and he had responded accordingly.  However, he couldn't seem to bring himself to do anything to her.  And he couldn't quite figure out why he couldn't stop staring at her either.  It wasn't like he had never seen her before.  She was still the same stupid Weasley girl who was relatively attractive.  But now she was being relatively attractive in front of him as apposed from being relatively attractive from across the hall and behind Potter and his goons.

            "You know," the red head said lazily, her eyes still traveling across the page.  "I'm quite flattered that you find me something worthy enough for your supreme eyes to look at, but could you perhaps do it a touch more tactfully?"

            Draco began to glare once more.  Who was she to say that?  Even if she was attractive and sitting in front of him.  He was beginning to wonder why he kept thinking that.  But she was a Weasley!  He was a Malfoy!  Sure, he was a Malfoy with a few more issues than he probably should have had, but then insanity was not uncommon throughout his family history.  It was to be expected however when the amount of pure bloods were declining in number every generation. 

            "You are sitting at my table," he drawled at her in response, not quite sure where it had come from.  Even if it was his table, why should he make such a snooty point of saying it?  "I can stare at you however long I like and in which ever manner I like."

            At this the weasel did look up and stare at him.  There was a rather amused look on her face however, far from the frown or glare he had expected.  And yet he couldn't help feeling she looked even more attractive with a face like that.  "You're table?" she asked, beginning to grin slightly.  "I don't see your name on it."

            Moving his hand forward, Draco brushed his book aside to reveal the word "DRAGON" carved into the surface.  "There it is," he said simply, making sure she saw it before he moved his book back.  He still wasn't sure why he had done that.  But he had been fairly bored when it had happened. 

            "Well then," she said simply, and he could have sworn he heard a hint of sarcasm in her voice when she said it.  "That's different."

            She stared at him for a moment more then turned back to her book.  Draco frowned at her.  She was up to something, he just knew it.  Beautiful people were always up to something.  But what could it be?  Was she in league with Pansy?  Had the stupid pug girl paid the desperately poor red head to do this?  Was it all some twisted way to take away his last little place where he felt safe?  Oh, he was going to do something terrible to that girl.  Something that would definitely make her regret what she was doing, but first to deal with this one... 

            "Is there something you would like me to do while you stare?" the red head in question asked, cutting off his vengeful thoughts.  He brought his eyes back to focus on her face, not even realizing that he had been staring at her before he zoned out.  She had put her romance novel away and was smiling at him slightly.  It was not a pleasant stare.  Well, not to Draco anyway.  It made her eyes seem much darker than they actually were.

            "Excuse me?" he asked her in slight surprise, which by his terms meant his voice changed ever so slightly in pitch.  Now he knew she was really up to something.  He then began to regret letting her stay there because of how she looked.  Even if she was cynical as well he shouldn't have let her stay.

            "Well, seeing as it is your table," she said in what he could only deduce was a seductive voice.  Or at least that's all he could credit her with, since it wasn't much of anything else.  Perhaps it was a little more daft than seductive, but he ignored that idea.  "And I am apparently supposed to be subjected to whatever you decide I should be subjected to under the notion that it is yours."   Draco jerked his leg back involuntarily as he felt someone else's leg, hers, brush against his own.  She seemed to grin at this making her seem even lovelier.

            It was then that Draco realized what was happening: she knew.

            Draco though wasn't about to be pushed about at his own table.  No.  And this stupid Pansy minion was going to get a pile of whatever she was dishing.

~*~

            Ginny didn't quite know what she was doing.  All she really did know was that she was attempting mischief without a plan.  Something the twins had been right down against.  But she had figured something out the moment his eyes had begun to bore into her.  That was what the book had been for.  Her fake reading had given her just enough time to figure something out.

            Though as to how it was actually managing to work she had no idea.  She had never been this forward with a guy before, and it was amazing that it was working.  Especially on a guy named Draco Malfoy.  She was beginning to feel that even if the twins had been there with her they wouldn't be quite so disappointed in her.  She was managing to pull this off quite well even without a plan.

            'It's almost too easy,' she thought maliciously with a mental smirk, standing up and walking slowly towards the blonde across from her.  She let herself grin at him slightly in what she hoped would be in a more seductive than predatory way.  There was no point in scarring him off before she finished her plan.   

            "You know, I've been thinking lately," she said as silkily as she could.  She knew that if the twins could see her now they would be rolling about on the ground.  The blonde was beginning to look a touch panicked.  "I've been thinking about how it isn't fair that Pansy is the only one that gets to cling to you."

            She had made it to his chair, which he tried to get out of, pulling it conveniently away from the table.  But Ginny was too quick for him and was soon leaning over, her arms on either armrest, pinning him there.  She grinned further upon seeing that he was leaning back, trying to get as far away from her as possible.  He really was avoiding being touched!  But why so obviously?  In front of the enemy no less?  Shrugging off her misgivings, Ginny leant forward until her lips were next to his ear.

            "I know," she whispered, letting her hand drift up to his arm.  To her slight dismay however, the supposed touchaphobe did not pull away.  Yet she pushed on despite this.  "And the Dream Team knows as well."  Her hand began to draw circles on the fabric of his sleeve, trying to get a reaction.  "They won't wait long before they take advantage of this information."

            The blonde's head tilted slightly, and Ginny resisted the urge to pull back quickly.  No, she was going to win.

            "So this is a warning then?" he drawled in her own ear, sending chills to run down her spine.  There was no fear in his voice this time, no uncertainty.  It was then she realized that she had screwed up: she had underestimated her prey.

            Before she could move, let alone say a word, the blonde's hands had clamped onto the sides of her head, pulling her lips to his.  Ginny's eyes flew wide, only to see his slide shut.  She was just beginning to scream at herself for letting herself get caught by a ferret when she realized that this was totally unlike how a touchaphobe should act. 

            'What if he's not?' she wondered.  But the thought had no sooner entered her head when it left as she felt a jolt of excitement as the supposed touchaphobe pulled her face closer to his, making his kiss more demanding.

            'Well,' she thought a little light-headedly.  'If you can't beat them, join them.'  With that she let her eyes slide shut as well and found her arms wrapping themselves around the Slytherin's rather nicely toned body. 

            A moment later she felt his arms snake their way from her head and down to her waist where they proceeded to pull her onto their owner's lap.  She had her hands in his hair then, trying to work it out of the gel that held it in place.  He didn't seem to notice as his own hands were becoming tangled in her own hair, his fingers catching on little knots from being in the wind outside.  Yet the pain didn't really bother her and she felt herself pressing her body harder against him. 

            Ginny felt a sudden thrill as the chair they were sitting in began to tip backward.  She tried to call out in alarm, but the lips on her own hindered the sound, making it out to be only a small squeak.  They crashed down, and she was amazed that the blonde hadn't hit his head on the tile when they landed, and the fact that he his lips or hands hadn't left her all through the process. 

            With a slight groan, Malfoy grabbed her about the waist and rolled her around so that he was on top.  She had to muffle a slight groan of her own as she felt his full weight bare down on the length of her body.  Yet just as she let her hands drift from his hair and to his back he pulled away from her. 

            "I suppose I'm lucky that I didn't choose a girl that was a philematophobe," he said huskily, looking into her eyes with a slightly dopey look.  Ginny had the feeling that there was a mirror expression on her own.  No, she was definitely not afraid of kissing.

            "I thought you were a touchaphobe," she whispered, frowning up at him slightly as reality slowly began to make itself present in her mind.  Her plan hadn't exactly worked out.  She hadn't won.  And she was beginning to get the feeling that he had.  Yet she couldn't quite bring herself to care.  "This little show of yours definitely portrays the contrary."

            "Oh, I still am," he whispered into her ear, leaning closer to her for a moment.  "But just not around you, apparently."

            "And why is that?" she asked.  Well, it was a valid question after all. 

            "You're not malicious when you try to be like Pansy," he replied, covering her lips with his once more then puling himself off of her.  He stood up and tugged his clothes back into place while Ginny simply sat up in a slight daze and stared at him.  Had she really managed to tug his shirt out of his pants?  She impressed herself.  He then gathered his belongings and put them back into his bag and put it on his shoulder.  Ginny just stared at him like an idiot and he smirked down on her.  "You're far too gentle."

            With that he turned on his heel and walked away from her.  She still hadn't moved, not quite trusting her legs so she just watched as the blonde turned around before he disappeared around a corner. She stared at him expectantly.

            "Oh, and Weasley," he drawled, seeming the ever arrogant and yet not Malfoy he usually was.  "Make a point of sitting at my table more often."  And with that he was gone.

            "Well, that went well," Ginny muttered to herself, her hand wandering up to touch her lips.  She could still feel his on her own.

~*~

            Draco had never felt so alive in his life.  'How the hell did I manage that?' he asked himself in amazement as he made his way to his Common Room.  'How the hell did I manage to do all that without feeling that horrid feeling?'  He paused.  'And how the hell did I manage to turn her little game into my own?'

            He stopped mid stride then, realizing something.  What he had done wasn't the act of the anti-social Malfoy that he had been tending to act like lately.  No, what he had done was the pure suave Draco that he had been turning into before it had all turned bad.  Then he began to grin.  And if he could take on a Weasley like that, it was just one step away from beating Pansy once and for all. 

            It was then that something else occurred to him, in a quiet little cheerful voice.  Perhaps he really wasn't a touchaphobe after all.  Perhaps he just didn't like Pansy.

~*~

A/N: Well there you have it.  A twisted little ending that is truly the end.  Nothing more.  Even if for some bizarre reason you want more.