Purely Physical Chapter 1

The day bloomed gray and doleful as Hermione gracefully slid from the sheets of her comfortable bed. She shivered as the morning's cold fingers enveloped her and quickly slipped on her bathrobe and padded her way to the bathroom. The other girls were still asleep; Hermione was an early riser. After splashing cool water on her face, Hermione entered the shower, trying to think of anything but last night.

But it had been the same as always. Nothing had changed. She was still doing this stupid, morally wrong thing and she couldn't stop. Hermione's salty tears blended in with the cold drops of the water splashing against the old shower stall and her heaves blocked out by the noise. She wiped her face, slowly, taking time to ease away any signs of her blotchy nose and bloodshot eyes. Nobody could see her cry; she had to be strong. She'd brought herself into the predicament and she had to live with the consequences.

She wanted to break it off so badly. It wasn't as if she was concerned about his feelings or anything; as far as she knew, the boy didn't have any. But she couldn't break it off. She couldn't be strong and stop; her body was like a dam, bursting with energy every time she achieved forbidden pleasure with him.

Hermione realized that she had spent over twenty minutes in the shower, absorbed in her painful thoughts, and quickly turned it off and got dressed. By this time, the others were beginning to rise, and she was soon greeted by a sleepy Parvati.

"Good morning, Hermione," Parvati said, yawning as she made her way to the shower.

Hermione nodded. "Good morning," she said softly.

Hermione hurried down to the common room and whipped out her Transfiguration textbook. Damn him, she thought angrily, as fresh tears threatened to spill, he's even distracted me from my studies…and it was true. Hermione's addiction was so strong that she even put her homework behind pleasure. It was always pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, that special feeling that she could not get enough of…

"Blimey, Mione, what's gotten into you?" Her steady stream of depressing thoughts was broken by Ron's nasally voice.

She turned and gave him and Harry, who was standing next to him, a wane smile. "Oh, I forgot that I hadn't finish my essay for McGonagall…" she said vaguely.

Harry laughed. "It just goes to show that you're not perfect," he teased. "Are you coming down to breakfast?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll be down in a minute," she promised. "I just have to finish this up."

Hurriedly she scribbled down some nonsense that her brain recalled from McGonagall's lecture and stumbled off after the boys. By the time she reached, an animated conversation about Quidditch was taking place, and almost every boy at the Gryffindor table was participating.

"No!" Ron was saying heatedly. "The Chudley Cannons are so much better than that bloody bunch of gits that you call a team…"

Seamus Finnegan looked outraged. "How can you say that?" he roared. Hermione smiled to herself and tuned them out, turning to the placid Harry as he observed the chaos at the table.

"Bit early to be losing your voice, isn't it, Ron?" Hermione commented lightly.

Harry laughed. "They've been at it for a good ten minutes now," he said as he buttered a toast. Hermione smiled warmly at him as she took a seat next to him. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of compassion passed through her—if anyone cared about her, Ron (well, maybe not at this moment…he seemed a little busy) and Harry certainly did.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly as she pulled her bewildered friend into a hug.

As they backed away, Harry shot her a puzzled look. "What was that for?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I'm just really thankful that you're…here for me," she croaked out. To her horror, her eyes began to swim in the fresh flood of water that had swiftly appeared over them.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said softly. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Oh, nothing," she bluffed. "Just…overly emotional."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Girls," he said playfully.

Hermione slowly made her way to Arithmancy, the only class she had with Draco Malfoy apart from the days of Double Potions. Lately she had grown to hate her favorite class; she could never keep her mind off the blasted Draco. All she did these days, she thought dolefully, was think about him. And that was when she wasn't having sex with him.

He was there, sitting in the back row as usual, the silvery blonde hair falling into his eyes. Hermione quickly turned her gaze away from him. She hated thinking about him. Wasn't it enough that she slept with the devil? Now he controlled her thoughts as well! Hermione knew she hated him, of course, but she was deliriously in love with his body. And that was what always occupied her thoughts.

Arithmancy, which had once captivated her, now dulled her to tears as she listened to the professor drone on and on about some formula or the other. Instead, she studied Draco. Draco looked like the perfect student, his head tilted attentively towards the professor and his quill at an angle that was perfect for jotting notes.

He looks rather like me, Hermione mused to herself. She knew perfectly well that this was her reputation; the student that was never distracted, the one who always knew the answer…and here she was, daydreaming and watching Draco. Draco, known for playing the fool and womanizing, known for his devilishly handsome looks and his harsh attitude to all things surrounding love and romance, known for his Death Eater father and his reluctance to become one himself…he was the one taking notes. He was the one with perfection.

Without really concentrating on what she was doing, Hermione picked up her quill and began to absentmindedly sketch on her notebook. When she finally realized what it was she was drawing, she hastily put the quill down and tried to tune into the lecture. Tried to not think about what she had just drawn…a sketch of his face, his silvery blonde hair falling into silver eyes…eyes full of malice and hate. The Boy-Who-Did-Not-Love.

Love. Lately Hermione had found herself fascinated by it, she thought gloomily as Arithmancy let out. One day, she wanted to be in love. But in order to be in love, one did not have simple sex-affairs with bad boys from Slytherin! Sighing, she made her way down to Double Potions. To her surprise, Draco caught up with her.

"Granger," he said by way of greeting as he strode up next to her, his pace matching hers perfectly.

She turned, slowly taking in all of the grace that was him. There was no denying it, his body was close to perfection. And she was the one who enjoyed it most. "Hello," she said distractedly.

"What…surprised to talk to me?" he asked nonchalantly. In truth, she really was. They weren't much for conversation; they had simply morphed from enemies to sexual buddies. Talking wasn't a necessity.

"Actually, yes," she replied honestly, with deliberation. "Why this sudden urge to talk to me, Draco?" She let his name run off her tongue like a waterfall. She was sick of calling him Malfoy…she slept with him on a regular basis and she hadn't said his first name. Oh well, she thought angrily, better late than never.

"I don't know," he said seriously. "I guess…after, you know…we might as well become acquaintances."

She nodded, taking in the fact that talking about it did not make him in the least uncomfortable. "True," she said. It also helped slightly in her moral dilemma. It was better to be acquaintances with a sex-buddy than enemies, she thought dolefully.

The conversation ended abruptly as they made their way into the dungeons. Hermione took off in the direction of Harry and Ron and Draco made his way to his fellow Slytherins, namely Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Hermione sighed. Why was it that they could bond physically but never emotionally?

A/N: Well, yes, I decided to continue it. Thanks to all that reviewed, you really shaped my ideas for this fic. I hope that you will continue to review because I need the motivation! I will update as soon as I can, but until then…reviews greatly appreciated. Also to those of you that asked, the song by Christina Aguilera is "Get Mine, Get Yours". The verse of "I Hate Everything About You" is below:

Every roommate kept awake

By every sigh and scream we make

All the feelings that I get

But I still don't miss you yet

Well, what did you think?