Purely Physical 5
A/N: I'd apologize for the wait but it seems that I'm always slow in updating. I'm so sorry! I promise it'll get better when I finish up "The Enemy" in a couple of weeks.
The days grew shorter and the homework load increased as the school year sped towards winter break. Hermione was pressured more than ever as she struggled to maintain her Head Girl status spotless, her grade record with everything 100+, and good relations with all of her peers. It was simply too much to handle, and the only way she could throw out the phases of anger building up in her was to have passion with the man she hated most.
She hated their relationship. The more it progressed, the more she hated it. Oh, not the sex. The sex was wonderful. The sex was why she did it. But she wanted off. It didn't matter. She had plenty of self-control, didn't she? She never lashed out at Neville during Potions or told Snape off for being such a prick or informed Harry that the mood swings were a little extreme. So if she could do all that without erupting like a volcano… couldn't she call off some silly little inexplicable relationship with her enemy? Was it that difficult?
But as the weeks between their episodes grew longer and longer Hermione realized that the answer was actually yes.
That particular morning, perhaps four or five weeks after the first twist in their relationship (and for some odd reason, Hermione was keeping track of that kiss-on-the-cheek), Hermione stepped down into the common room, determined to enjoy her Saturday and take the day off. She could put aside studying and worrying for now. She hadn't had a decent conversation with Harry and Ron for what seemed years.
"Hello, Harry," she said, sitting down next to him on the burgundy colored sofa.
"Hermione," he said warmly, turning to give her a smile. "How's it been? It seems you've been spending more time with your books than you have with any breathing creature."
Hermione smiled wistfully. "Well, it's seventh year, Harry. We've got to get as much work done as possible, don't we? So we can obtain the best profession possible and get to our highest potential? So we can—"
"Hermione," Harry said gently, cutting her off, "You're beginning to sound like a career pamphlet."
Hermione laughed the first genuine laugh she'd had in a couple of weeks. Oh, she absolutely couldn't wait till school was over. Just one more week to go and winter break would be a welcomed relief. "Thanks for being such an informative friend," she joked. "Where's Ron?"
"Out," Harry replied, a sly grin crossing his features.
"Out where?" she pried, although she thought she had a pretty good idea.
"With Hannah Abbott!" Harry blurted, and the two of them laughed, wondering how long it had taken Ron to finally ask the poor girl out. He'd fancied her since their sixth year and it had always been the brunt of many jokes to tease him about his lack of expertise in girls. Harry would occasionally ask him if he thought Hannah's nose was dead center, as a reminder of the shallow person that Ron had been in fourth year. Then again, he was still shallow. All boys were, all boys except…
Here she was again. Back to the root of the problem. Back to the boy she'd banned herself from thinking about. Using with great effort her sense of reasoning, she decided she didn't really have any proof that beauty wasn't the most important thing on his list. Unless she counted that minor detail that he was sleeping with her. And she wasn't exactly the sleekest broomstick in the shed, so to speak.
"Hermione?" Harry was asking. "You're always dazing off. What's on your troubled mind?" he asked, stroking his chin, pretending to be a psychologist.
Hermione laughed. "Nothing," she said a little too quickly for believability. "Just…stuff."
"That's contradictory, Hermione. I demand you tell me what's going on."
Hermione slumped. She couldn't hold in all this stress anymore. She'd have to tell Harry. Harry was dependable. Of course she'd leave out certain bits—the bits that included Draco, sex, Malfoy, and herself—but she was having a nervous breakdown and if anyone could help it would be Harry.
"Harry," she said quietly, but her voice rose with every syllable, "It's too much. I can't take it anymore. There's so much bloody shit I have to do every single day. I have to get the perfect grades. I have to be a perfect student. A role model. Have to get an excellent job. Have to be all the teachers' protégé. I really can't take it anymore. Harry I hate it! I don't want it! I want to run away and leave it all behind. I want to…be a muggle again. It's…so easy. So simple!" By the end of her little tirade Hermione was sobbing.
"Shh, Hermione," Harry said, pulling her into a hug. "Shh, it's okay. You don't mean that," he said comfortingly, "if you were a muggle you'd never have met me, and what a loss that would have been…"
Hermione smiled through the tears. "Bugger off, Harry."
"You must really be upset," he said, smiling at her. "You barely ever curse."
Hermione hugged him hard, her tears leaving wet stains on his robes. "Sorry," she muttered as she pulled away.
"It's okay. I love you just a little more than the robes."
"Oh, you!" she swiped at him playfully. "I love you too."
He grinned. "Ok, Hermione. No studying this weekend. Come on, it's a Hogsmeade weekend anyway and you and I might as well enjoy it. After all Ron's making the best use of his."
Hermione thought about it, and although there was a nagging voice in the back of her head scolding her for abandoning her work, she nodded. "Yes, let's go visit Honeydukes. I could use some chocolate frogs about now."
"Chocolate frogs? Hermione, you're not adventurous in the least," Harry teased, and the two of them departed to Hogsmeade.
The two of them ambled around the small community, half-looking for Ron the whole time, curious as to what he was up to. They finally bumped into him as he and Hannah were leaving The Three Broomsticks. "Ron," Hermione called out before she could stop herself.
Ron spun around and gave Hermione a lopsided smile. "Care to show a man some common courtesy, Hermione?" He turned towards Hannah, who smiled brightly. Hannah was one of the nicest people in the entire seventh year—she was kind, friendly, and had become quite popular.
"Am I the cause of fight between the so-called Golden Trio?" Hannah asked jokingly. "I'm so honored."
"Sorry, Hannah," Harry replied, "but Malfoy's the permanent stain on us three. He'll do anything to break us down."
Hermione's grin faded as thoughts of Draco began to plague her. Speaking of the devil, there he was, walking around with two other Slytherins—Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
Only when he had disappeared into The Three Broomsticks did Hermione shift her eyes away from him and back into the conversation between her friends. Ron and Hannah were going to visit Madame Malkin's Dresswear because Hannah wanted a new dress (Ron grumbled good-heartedly) and Harry had said that he and Hermione were going to go have some butterbeer.
Hermione suddenly didn't want to, knowing full well who would be inside. But she didn't want to change Harry's plans so she reluctantly followed him inside, hanging her head down and trying not to look around.
Of course it was no use at all; her heart took control and she scanned the atmosphere quickly in order to find the Slytherins. There they were, sitting right next to her favorite table.
Harry paid them no heed as he took their butterbeers and sat down so near to them. Although the weather was chilly, Hermione felt stuffy and hot, and her breath was coming in shallow gasps. Not now, she thought miserably, please don't concentrate on him…please…
Harry began a one-sided conversation about Quidditch and Hermione found it rather easy to zone out after a while. Of course her thoughts went to the sexy Slytherin sitting near her. She turned to look at him, and for the first time, she studied his expressions. His face was set in its rigid conformity as usual, but the eyes—the eyes could be very expressive. And right now they were expressing boredom and distaste. He mustn't be enjoying the conversation very much, she mused to herself.
He had the power to become somebody.
Who knew…if he escaped his destiny, Hermione thought to herself, if he escaped it, then, maybe this emotionless façade would dissolve and he could be someone that lonely Hermione truly needed. A friend. A different friend, a path of escape.
Because right now escape was the only thing she wanted.
As Harry droned on about the English Quidditch team, Hermione's mind had already launched into escape plans. She just wanted to run away; wanted to leave Hogwarts behind. Of course that incessant voice in the back of her head constantly reminded her that leaving Hogwarts for even a day would shatter all of her perfection and dreams, but for once Hermione did not listen. She let herself indulge in fantasies of being free—of adult life.
But as she finished her butterbeer, Hermione's brilliance and logistic approach to everything had reduced them to what they really were…just fantasies. Nothing but fantasies. Hermione knew that deep down she was actually a hopeless romantic. She craved love and affection and that was yet another reason why she had been so easily pulled and swayed into the physical relationship with him. But on the outside, the Hermione Granger that everyone else knew was practical, pragmatic, logistic, brilliant, and brave. She had supportive friends and she was well-liked, now that the rest of the school had accepted her as resident genius.
The real, raw Hermione underneath was nothing like that. Hermione was a dreamer, with constant visions of the future dancing in front of her. Visions of careers and money were there, obviously, but so were visions of love and warmth and all those mushy Valentine's Day feelings that Hermione would never admit to anyone at all. That Hermione cared nothing for grades or appearances, and lately, her inner personality had been clawing to get out. It was getting harder and harder to suppress it.
"Hermione," Harry was patting her arm. "Have you heard a word I've said?"
Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. "Sorry," she said, grinning sheepishly. "Just thinking, again."
"You spend a lot of time thinking," Harry responded, giving her a warm smile. "You're so different now."
She looked down as sudden tears brushed her face like a paintbrush. "I guess I am," she choked out, trying not to let Harry see her cry. Before he could respond, the boy that only made situations worse had walked up to their table.
"Why are you crying?" he asked stolidly, as usual not letting any emotion creep into his voice.
Harry threw him a look of malice. "Malfoy, just leave her alone. She doesn't need the likes of you right now."
The old Hermione, outer or inner, would have definitely hit Harry up the side of the head for this. Draco Malfoy had really changed, and whether she was doing the physical thing or not, she wouldn't have appreciated her friends deliberately picking fights. But right now Hermione was too tired, too stressed to even care what those two boys said to each other.
"Hermione…hey Hermione," the grey-eyed boy said, shaking her shoulder gently. "Are you okay? This wouldn't have anything to do with Snape's latest assignment, would it?"
Hermione cracked a grin. He was smart, showing Harry that there was nothing more between them than a potion. "No…although that does rank up there."
Harry stared between them, bewildered. "Hermione?" he asked quietly, glancing as Draco retreated to his own table after making sure that Hermione wasn't about to suddenly kill herself. "Are you…well, you get along with Malfoy, then?"
Hermione shrugged. Right now, there were so many things she couldn't explain about it. As time went on, they only got more complicated. In the beginning, they'd hated the sight of each other, and then as time went on, the hate dissipated into just indifference…and then that night, that awful or wonderful night, depending on your point-of-view. That had brought in a new perspective, a lust that they'd begun to feel for each other. And then his wanting to become acquaintances, although they still barely ever spoke…and now…now he was reaching out as if he were almost a friend…just maybe…another fantasy gripped Hermione's mind as she thought of how life would be if she became friends with him. Friends that had sex occasionally. She laughed quietly and looked up at Harry. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "He's changed, but so have I."
Harry smiled comfortingly. "Well, he's a Slytherin," he warned lightly, "so don't get too trusting."
Hermione nodded, and the two of them made their way back to Hogwarts.
Harry's light warning had proved to Hermione that Harry didn't take it seriously at all. He'd meant it almost jokingly, knowing that nothing could ever happen between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor…no, more than that. Between a pureblood and a mud blood, although Draco hadn't even showed regard for that. Then again, purebloods weren't restricted to intimate relationships with only other purebloods. What they had wasn't romance; it was pure, raw lust. And lastly, most importantly, nothing could spark between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Even their names clashed, sounding to Hermione like a beautiful cacophony.
Later that night, as Hermione stared dismally at a blank piece of paper, trying to recall useless facts to write a paper for Charms, she noticed the open window, the soft burgundy curtains flapping gently in the wind. She walked over to her window, inhaling the cold December air while pulling her robe tightly around her. The stars twinkled; the night was a cool and clear one. In the distance, she could make out a silver speck—someone was taking advantage of the weather and flying.
Suddenly Hermione couldn't take it anymore. No more. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her wand, and stepped precariously onto the ledge of the window. Slowly she moved downwards until she only had a three foot jump till the ground. Falling softly, she landed in a bed of violets and got up. She didn't know what she was going to do now, but she sure as hell wasn't going back. Not right now.
A/N: I hope that this was an okay chapter. Please review and tell me what you think. And a HUGE thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I had plans to delete the fic actually because I wasn't sure that I could write it nicely but you guys have kept me going! Please review, and thanks!