Purely Physical 3

Hermione took her notes attentively during History of Magic, capturing on paper almost every word that the Professor said. Her hand throbbed and she took a break to massage her neck, looking around the room. All around her, students were practicing various forms of entertainment. Some kept their eyes open, but they were so glazed over it was obvious that they were not paying attention. Others, such as Seamus, had thrown caution to the winds and had outright dropped their head on the desk. Neville was playing with his quill and Harry was observing his elbow with much interest. Parvati was doodling phallic images on her notes and Lavender was giggling.

Hermione couldn't help it; her mind began to wander as well. And of course, the only thing she thought of when she was bored was this whole alter-ego thing that she was suddenly living out. When she was younger, she'd always had a secret fantasy to be a vixen, a beautiful girl that was cold and distant but every man would love her anyway. As she had aged, the fantasy had died out, but Hermione felt that her current situation was dangerously close.

She remembered when he'd first come up with the proposition. It had been three days after the second detention, and Hermione had been nervous when he'd first made his way to her in the nearly empty library.

"Granger," he'd said clearly. "I have a proposition." She looked up at him, and saw steely silver eyes that she felt were boring into her soul. She trembled, waiting for him to continue. To be honest, she was a little scared of him, although she did make very good effort to not show it—and so far, she thought, she was doing a beautiful job. Finally he spoke again. "What do you say we embark on a…shall we say…physical relationship." She'd stared at him for a moment, before he continued. "And nothing more."

At the time, she'd had no inclination to do it. It was only going to create one hell of a mess, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from thinking about the immense pleasure she'd experienced, the smoothness of his ivory skin, the way his silver eyes looked in moments of pleasure…

And of course, being the bloody idiot she was, she'd accepted. "I…don't know," she had told him, but they both knew that the subliminal message had been a definite yes.

"Meet me at ten tonight at the Astronomy Tower, and we'll find out," he had said, walking away with a small smirk on his face.

Hermione snapped herself out of her reverie, worried that she had missed important notes in History of Magic. As she looked around, she was relieved to find that every other student was still occupied with their vegetation. Professor Binns was still droning on about Gorblig the Great and his defeat of the goblins in 1834, and the bird outside the window was still humming a soft tune.

After what seemed ages, class was over and the students nearly stampeded their way into the Great Hall for lunch. "Gods," Ron declared angrily as he stomped down to the hall, "That class is so boring I want to hex myself."

Hermione giggled, thinking of a familiar Muggle saying. "You mean shoot yourself, huh?" she asked.

Ron gave her a blank stare. "What?"

"Never mind," Harry interjected. Hermione noticed he was looking a little downcast, and apparently, Ron did too.

"What's the matter, Harry?" he asked concernedly.

"Oh…Quidditch," Harry replied forlornly. "It's just that I've been playing rather terribly for the last two practices."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, if it's still bothering you…" Harry had recently been turned down by a girl he'd fancied, and he'd only confided in Ron and Hermione. The girl had been from Hufflepuff, a quiet, mousy girl, and Hermione was quite surprised that she would turn down Harry Potter. It was quite a shock.

"It's not," he said, a little too quickly, arousing Hermione's suspicion. Nevertheless, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Good," she said curtly, trying to change the topic. Ron nodded.

"Yeah, mate, she's not worth it. Think of the food you're about to eat!" The trio laughed at Ron's comment, and Hermione felt a fuzzy, warm feeling wash over her. It was so good to be with friends sometimes.

Almost immediately, the good feeling washed away when she noticed the Slytherin table and the arrogant, blonde-haired, gorgeous prat that sat there. He was deep in discussion with his supposed best friend, Blaise Zabini.

Blaise's eyes narrowed when he saw Hermione, and Hermione gave an involuntary shudder. Suppose Draco had told him? But he wouldn't do that, Hermione reasoned slowly. He had been the one to initiate it, to set down the rules. And the number one rule was don't tell a soul.

So then why was Blaise looking at her like that? She shrugged it off—after all, Blaise was a Slytherin and Slytherins hated all Gryffindors, which definitely included her. And Blaise was also known for hating muggle-born witches.

Blowing it off, Hermione sat down at their table and tuned into the latest gossip. Over the years, Ginny Weasley had grown on Hermione—to a point where Hermione could consider her a very, very good friend. And it was lovely to have a girl to discuss things with.

"Hermione, have you heard?" Ginny shrieked as Hermione sat down. Hermione shook her head and gave her friend a small smile. Ginny was always on top of social activity at Hogwarts.

"Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley broke up," Ginny explained, her eyes wide. Surprised, Hermione glanced at the Hufflepuff table; Justin wasn't present and Hannah was hastily wiping her eyes with a napkin.

"It's about time they did," Ron declared darkly, helping himself to mashed potatoes. "I mean, Justin does have problems being committed."

Ginny nodded and Hermione listened, eyes wide. "Yeah. Apparently he was sleeping around with Susan Bones on the side," Ginny said.

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. Justin hadn't really struck her as the kind of boy that would do something like that.

"Oh, that's nothing," Ginny said lightly. "Some of the things people do…but you do know who has the most commitment-phobia at this school, don't you?"

Hermione shook her head, but she had a very good idea of who that might be. "The Prat of the Slytherins, of course," Ginny continued. "Well, they're all prats but he's the biggest git of the lot, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded as guilt seeped into her one more time. "Yes, of course, it's Dr—Malfoy after all."

"Malfoy's currently 'dating' Parkinson, as he puts it. But everyone knows that Parkinson's probably the only one who doesn't get any action from him," Ginny commented as she buttered her toast.

Harry laughed and Hermione was surprised to see how many people were following the conversation. But what Ginny said really unnerved her. Here she was, submissive towards the one boy that played almost every girl. Of course, she didn't love—hell, she didn't even like him, but…she had at least thought she was the only one to have the pleasure, or punishment, depending on how you looked at it (his body was awfully addicting) of sleeping with him.

"So you think he's sleeping around with lots of people?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm sure he is," Ginny replied scathingly. "He seems the type, doesn't he? And while I do admit he is one of the better looking boys at Hogwarts…" She trailed off as she looked at her brother, who was turning redder by the second. "Oh, Ron, don't choke, honestly, you may not notice but girls practically fawn over him…I would too if he wasn't such a bloody idiot…and he does take advantage of girls, Hermione."

Hermione lost everything that resembled an appetite. Well, she reasoned with herself, Draco was taking advantage of her, she knew that the relationship was completely commitment-free, and it wasn't even as if she wanted a romantic relationship with him, but…she wanted to be the only girl that he met in the Astronomy Tower or the library approximately once a week.

"I'm sure he does."

Slipping out of her seat, she told her friends that she had to finish up some homework and went off to the library, so it didn't look suspicious, letting the information sink in. Well, she'd always known that he wasn't the type to be faithful to one girl…he wasn't in the least romantic. Hermione was. Sometimes she yearned to have someone that would treat her to expensive dinners by candlelight and buy her red roses.

That Hermione would soon be extinguished by the more practical Hermione, the Hermione who knew that this wasn't going to happen anytime soon and that small fancies would go unnoticed by the boy of her affections.

Currently, she wasn't fancying any boy, but coupled with her physical relationship with Draco, she was feeling more and more like a whore. And in all honesty, she was a whore. And so was he. That's what we have in common, Hermione thought bitterly. We're both whores.

She sat down at her favorite table in the library. It was the second most secluded area of the library, and often where she and Draco did the deed, so to speak. Pulling out one of her leisure books, she absent mindedly began to flip the pages, trying to concentrate but finding her mind wandering to abysmal things such as who-was-dating-who, and more significantly, who-was-sleeping-with-who.

Suddenly she heard movement and looked up. Draco was standing there, looking as handsome as ever with blonde hair falling onto his pale forehead and his silver eyes once again reading her every thought. He smirked his traditional smirk when he saw her looking at him.

"Hello, there," he said, flashing her a quick glance of whitish teeth.

"Hi," she said nervously. "Look, I really don't have time to, you know…" she couldn't bring herself to say it. Every time she thought about it, she felt dirty and whorish, imagine what saying it would mean.

He laughed. "Don't worry, that's not why I'm here. Like I said the other day. Acquaintances. Although I hate to admit it, it's slightly disturbing sleeping with you and not knowing anything about you except that you are best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-My-Arse."

Hermione smiled weakly. She hated it when he insulted Harry or Ron, but she didn't know any other way to stop it than hexing him or slapping him. Both of which were a little too immature for the three-quarters-of-the-way-through-seventh-year that she had become. "Don't," she finally told him. "Just drop it."

He shrugged. "Whatever, then…so, what're you reading?"

"Just a book," she said, showing the title to him.

"Weird and Wonderful Enchantments?" he asked, taking the book from her hands. Flipping through it, he declared, "Well, it does seem rather entertaining. I wouldn't mind making excessive amounts of hair grow out of Parkinson's ears."

In spite of herself, Hermione snorted. "I thought you were dating her."

"Oh, no, that's what they say, but in reality, she really isn't my type."

Hermione laughed. "All right then," she said.

The silence between them grew awkward, and Hermione realized that she was at a loss for words. She could no longer insult him, but she didn't really want to befriend him either, because it would ruin the strictly physical relationship they carried out.

Apparently he felt it too. "Well," he said, after a few minutes. "How's day after tomorrow in the Astronomy Tower, say, eleven?"

She nodded, berating herself mentally. "Okay," she said. Staring at him as his grey coat swished to match his fast pace. She vaguely wondered how many girls he'd initiated a physical relationship with. What if she wasn't the only one?

A/N: Well, my longest chapter so far for the story. Please give it a review, that would be really nice, I don't have very many for it. Oh, and also, if you are reading any of my other fics, just wanted to let you know that midterms are coming up in a bit and I can't update till they're over, simply because I have just got to buckle down and study. Um, let's see, my midterms end on December 17th, I might update one of my stories this weekend but after that don't expect anything till the 17th or 18th. Thanks!