Purely Physical Chapter 8
Important A/N: Okay kids, let's talk about drugs! Wow I got some interesting responses to that. A lot of you were like, "NO! Hermione would NEVER do drugs!" and a lot of you were like, "eh, I see". I'd just like to respond to this. Ok. I agree with everyone that said, "NO!" to this drugs matter… Hermione-from-the-books wouldn't. But this is my Hermione; what I mean by that is… Hermione-from-the-books would never sleep with Draco, either.
My Hermione is suffering a major identity crisis right now, so big that her morals, which is a theme of the story, are definitely changing for the time being. I never said that Hermione was going to become a major druggie, so please, just wait. I would like to thank MystyKitty for helping me with this argument (er, kind of stole some of it from your review). I hope you guys understand, I appreciated your feedback a lot. So let me give a WARNING: there is recreational drug-use in this chapter (although more of smoking cigarettes)
Hermione shivered as she sat up in the bed, her toes feeling numb as she absorbed her surroundings. The walls were plain. She smiled, somehow glad to see the nothingness. Nothing extraordinary, nothing fancy, nothing special. Absolutely normal—and this in itself was a major relief. She looked over towards the other bed, where he slept. His face was contorted into prototypes of anger, hatred, pain… anything and everything he never showed.
Her interest piqued. Was this the chance she had been waiting for? Where she could discover what was underneath the cool and collected exterior? She shivered again as her feet touched cold stone floor, the heels of her feet balking in protest, but she walked over to him anyway. His eyes seemed barely closed, and she was terrified that they would flutter open any second. But despite her cautiousness, which she promptly threw to the winds, she looked down and watched. He was by no means a peaceful sleeper. Expressions crossed his face in ways she felt were tangible yet unimaginable at the same time. She found herself thinking that if indeed she were a psychologist, a field she had always loved, be it magical or not, he would make an excellent case study.
Then again, you weren't supposed to be attached to your patients. She frowned slightly as she forced herself to re-examine their relationship. As much as it pained her to admit it, there was something beyond the purely physical aspect she had once thought it was. She couldn't place it; for starters, it was extremely plausible to say that she didn't even like him. She would never consider him a friend, yet he was more to her than Ron and Harry could be. Ron and Harry were jovial, fresh, friendly, yet utterly beyond what she needed. She needed a confidant. Maybe… just maybe Draco could be one.
Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she had never noticed he was fully awake now, and staring at her with mild curiosity. "What compels you to stare at me when I sleep?" he asked softly.
Embarrassed, Hermione let out a squeak and promptly giggled. He watched in a most unnerving way as she composed herself and began to speak. "I'm sorry," she hastily stated, "I just… you had these… expressions on your face or something, and I just came over to see. I've only been here for a few seconds."
His mouth stretched into what could only be called a sardonic sort of smile, but Hermione could never call it happy. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes; it was more of a let-me-excuse-you-from-your-sorry-excuse sort of smile. He got out of bed and she found herself averting her eyes, but then shrugging it off… she'd seen more of him anyway.
"You're not a good liar," he finally said, as he walked toward the bathroom. "You might want to work on that."
She was left staring after him in utmost disbelief. Shaking her head slightly, she got dressed herself, wondering what the day would bring. In her head she found herself reviewing her Hogwarts schedule. Right now she would be sitting in Transfiguration, listening attentively as Professor McGonagall covered important facts for the exam. She would be taking excessive notes, starting to prepare outlines to study over winter break (which was in three days) for their final exam at the end of the school year.
She'd worked so hard to prove to them that even a Muggleborn could become a powerful witch. But what was the use? Look at where she was now! And Harry and Ron… what would they say? Would they miss her, or mourn for her, or form search parties…
She expected that Ron would go ballistic, and Harry would become moody and sullen and very withdrawn. He'd be upset, too. She remembered his warning from earlier. "He's a Slytherin, so don't get too trusting." Harry didn't know the half of it. Didn't know she had sex with this Slytherin, didn't know she was fascinated by this Slytherin, didn't know that she was the one who asked this Slytherin to tag along anyway. Harry would assume that he had coaxed her into running away; that it was all Draco Malfoy's fault. That Hermione was his totally innocent best friend.
Did she want that image? A part of her really did. It was sweet to be that hard-working, innocent, naïve little piece of fluff that scored excellent grades and had two loving friends. But these days she was sick and tired of being so exemplary in everything. She didn't want to crash to the opposite side, but right now she was really tempted to.
Draco stepped out of the bathroom, breaking her train of thought. "What time is it?" he asked casually, and Hermione looked over at the alarm clock.
"Just past twelve," she said. "I've never slept in this late before." Her first act of rebellion. She giggled inwardly.
He shrugged. "We went to bed around five-thirty in the morning. It's excusable." He walked toward the door, and Hermione watched in surprise as he left the room. For a few seconds she just stood there and then in great haste followed him out the door.
"Hey, wait!" she called to the boy who was already halfway down the long, extravagantly decorated hall.
He turned around slowly. "Yeah?"
"I'm…what…" she didn't know what to say. Of course she hadn't expected him to take off on her; she'd thought they'd be together for the duration of their little "trip". Had he meant to separate? If so, what could she stay to stop him? She'd never told him that she expected him to be with her… secondly, he was the one who owned the broom. How was she supposed to get around? What was she supposed to do?
"Were you saying something?" he asked nonchalantly. "You said something but just sort of died out."
She shrugged and gave an uncomfortable chuckle. "Oh, whatever… just wondering where you were going. Not that I really care though, I mean, it's not like we're together or anything…"
Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? She'd given herself away again. Another thing to note from Draco: keep it inside! He was a master of deceit and deliberation. Could remain quiet in any situation. He probably would have to be tortured to remove information from him, and even then, he might not give it up. Let alone torture, you didn't even have to persuade Hermione to give up any information. She was so loose-lipped it… ugh, yet another thing that she had begun to hate about herself.
He smiled quite genuinely at her, and Hermione noticed how nice… not sexy, not God-like, not even maniacal, but just decent he looked when his features lit up. "Paranoia is never a good thing," he said seriously. "I'll give you permission to follow me, I suppose."
"Oh, you!" she laughed as she half-charged at him. "I didn't mean to sound like a blubbering idiot."
"You didn't," he responded seriously, and once again Hermione noticed his charms, "We might as well have run away together. Either way, we're both… unfulfilled, I guess. So sure, let's stick around together. I was actually just going down to talk to Warbleu, maybe pester him into getting us free food."
Us. Not me. So then maybe he wasn't kidding. Damn! He was so unpredictable! "Okay, let's go," she sighed, and they walked down the winding pathways to the front desk. Warbleu still stood there and grinned ecstatically when he saw Draco and Hermione.
"Master Malfoy," he greeted. "And the lass. What's your name, dear?"
Hermione warmed to the sweet old man. "Hermione, sir, Hermione Granger."
"Oh, none of this 'sir' business, Hermione! What an unusual name. Where's it from?" Warbleu continued talkatively.
Hermione glanced over to Draco, wanting to see his reaction on the whole thing, see if maybe he was interested or disinterested, but he had his usual emotionless blank mask on, secured quite tightly, and there was no way Hermione would be able to remove it.
"It's actually from Greek mythology," she explained with a small smile. "My parents were a bit obsessed with it, I suppose. It's a wonder they're dentists."
"Dentists!" Warbleu exclaimed. "I've needed a good one for years! Perhaps you could send me off to your parents!"
Hermione found herself blushing. Of course, Warbleu assumed her parents were both wizards; he'd never go to a muggle dentist. After all, here she was traveling with Draco Malfoy, the paradigm of pureblood. "Oh, er," she replied softly, "they're… they're not… wizards."
Warbleu frowned slightly. "Really? Neither of them?"
Blushing even redder now, Hermione shook her head violently, wishing that she could seep into the floor. She turned to look at Draco, whose eyes seemed to show a level of interest, but his face of course did not give away his personal feelings on the matter. "No, neither of them," she repeated quietly. "Neither of them at all."
"So…no wizard blood in the family at all? A muggle-born lass!" Warbleu cried in excitement. She looked down at the ground. She wasn't proud of her heritage, but she would never discount it either. So what if her parents didn't have magic? So bloody what?
Draco seemed to notice the fire burning in her eyes and shook his head slightly at Warbleu. "Yes, a muggle-born, Warbleu. What's the matter, never seen one before?"
Warbleu smiled kindly at Hermione. "Oh, dear, I've gone and upset you, haven't I? Take no heed at my words, Hermione! I was just so surprised to see Lucius Malfoy's son with a muggle –born. Lucius is inherently, shall we say, opposed to that class of wizards."
He reached out and patted her hand, and Hermione felt something in it as he drew away. In surprise she opened her palms and saw a bar of chocolate. "The best an old man can do", she heard Warbleu distinctly mumble, if there was even such a thing. Giving him a shaky smile she said her thank-yous.
"I didn't mean to get upset," she explained. "And I'm aware that Mr. Malfoy would be most disappointed in his son if he was conscious of the situation. Thank you for your help."
With that, they turned to go. Hermione somehow felt the need to leave again. She didn't want to stay here; this was not what she had come for.
So what had she come for? She didn't even know, but somehow she felt that… however cheesy it sounded, if she saw it or felt it she'd know what it was. And nothing had clicked yet.
Draco clambered towards the halls, informing Hermione that he was going to go get his broom. She hadn't brought much anything with her so she opted not to go back up and instead sat down in a lounge chair and thought again about home.
She didn't think about Hogwarts, but in fact, about her home. Thomas and Jane Granger; the parents who thought she was studying in school at this very moment, when in reality she was somewhere in London… hell, she wasn't even sure where she was. Before she could think anymore, Draco was back with his broom.
"So, any particular place you want to go, or can we just go wherever?" he asked.
"Oh, anywhere's fine," she mumbled, with a wave of her hand. Anywhere. Because she could be anybody. It meant she was just one of the crowd. Was that her ultimate goal?
They stepped out into the cold and Hermione pulled her now dirty cloak tighter around herself. The weather was dreary, as usual. To her surprise Draco did not mount the broom, instead he began walking away from the hotel. "Come on," he called. "There's a lovely cottage down here that my father owns. It's probably fifty kilometers from here."
"Fifty kilometers?" she asked incredulously. "You plan to walk?!"
He smiled serenely. "The exercise will do you good. Did you know that walking is good for your heart? You don't want to die of a heart attack when you're a wizard, Hermione. It's frowned down upon. A very bad way to go."
Hermione glared. Was he serious? "I don't think… walking fifty kilometers…is a good idea, Draco. We will be very tired."
His demeanor broke and he laughed. "I really had you going! You were all ready to abandon me at the thought of walking a mere fifty kilometers!"
"It's not a mere fifty kilometers. It's a lot. There is no way in…"
"Calm down," he soothed. "I was just joking. I like to mess around with people. In more ways than one," he smirked.
She rolled her eyes. And there were times when he was like a normal adolescent boy as well. Obviously now was one of those times. She watched curiously as he followed the stream that ran near the hotel. Soon they were in some sort of clearing in the woods—not a deep woods, but more of a sprinkling of trees and brush.
Half in shock and half in a real understanding, Hermione watched as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.
"Having a smoke. Why? You want one?" he answered, breathing out slowly.
She shrugged, looking pointedly at the ground. Should she? It was the last thing she still had; her morals were completely intact (if you didn't count the whole fact that she was sleeping around with a boy she wasn't even dating, let alone loving). "I don't know," she replied softly, almost choking on her words.
He shrugged again. "Fine. But don't watch me like that. It's unnerving."
She giggled. "You actually find something unnerving? I thought you were like… this aura of calm in the middle of turmoil, or something."
"Sounds very poetic. Keep thinking."
He let the cigarette butt drop to the ground and pulled something else out of his belongings; Hermione couldn't recognize it.
"What are you doing?" she finally asked, feeling like an idiot. Although she did almost relish this feeling of not knowing. It was different, it was almost unique to her.
"Smoking pot," he answered imperturbably, staring off into space. He seemed to be deep in thought. Hermione, on a crazy impulse, sat down on next to him.
"Can I try it?" she finally inquired.
"Help yourself," he waved, still too busy in whatever he was thinking to pay much attention to her. Tentatively Hermione reached out and took the stuff from him, unsure what to do with.
Suddenly she felt a wave of nausea hit her. "I don't want this…" she sighed, pushing it back towards him. He shrugged again and turned away.
"You can explore the woods or something. They won't make you high, I promise."
Something in his words stirred her into a frenzy. Was he suggesting that she was… too high-and-mighty for a simple smoke? "You know what?" she suggested dangerously. "Why don't you throw me a cigarette."
"Take it yourself," he responded, just as dangerously. Hermione knew it when she saw something glint in his eyes. He was seriously thinking about something she probably didn't even want to know about.
"Fine. I will." She reached down to his pack of cigarettes and drew one out slowly, fingering it softly, running her hands over the smooth texture. Grabbing his lighter she lit the cigarette and for a moment simply watched as smoke curled out of it.
Coughing as the smell hit her, she held it up to her mouth and inhaled deeply. Immediately she began to cough as its taste filled her lungs. She looked over at him and was surprised that he was looking at her. He had been so deeply engrossed in his own mind she didn't think that he would notice.
"What are you staring at?" she narrowed her voice to sound annoyed. Sometimes it really wasn't that hard when she was looking at him. Another one of the hundreds of perplexities of fucking Draco Malfoy.
"Nothing," he remarked. "You're not doing it right."
Embarrassed she held the cigarette away from her, its furls of smoke beginning to caress her lungs in the most horrible of ways. "Well, then, show me," she demanded.
"Ask nicely," he said seriously.
She sighed. "Oh, Draco, help corrupt another soul, please, by teaching me how to smoke right."
He laughed and showed her the proper way, and of course, being Hermione Granger, she had grasped it within seconds. In ten minutes or so she had finished the cigarette, letting it drop to the floor. She stomped on it dramatically, envisioning a squished term paper, or a broken mirror, or a dead Voldemort.
For a while she didn't even notice a difference, but soon the nicotine began to take effect. For the first time she felt herself getting high; she couldn't say if she liked it or not. It felt good to not be in control, for a change, just to sit in the passenger's seat and let the chemicals take the wheel, but then at the same time, it really wasn't in her nature to bequeath control to anything else. She had to have it all.
She imagined stars and shooting rainbows, and every time she looked at Draco she giggled. She still couldn't place what it was about him. Infatuation, maybe? Incredible curiosity? Or maybe she just liked the way he was when they had sex? Sex was nice. She liked sex. In fact she wanted some right now, come to think of it. It would be beautiful under the forest ground and the stars in her head and her silly smile and the way Draco looked when he smiled because it was so nice and so decent and she loved it and she loved the way she couldn't figure him out he was like a walking puzzle…
"Hey," she whispered, the drug in full effect.
"Hey," he whispered back, emulating her demeanor.
She moved towards him; somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that she had never actually made a move on him. It had always been the other way around. "Draco," she whispered again.
He stepped back.
She moved closer and suddenly swooped down upon him, lacerating his lips with her own, pulling her body up to his. For a moment he responded, getting involved, and then he pushed her away. In indignation her body cried for his touch, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she tried to kiss him again.
"No, stop," he said firmly, although Hermione noted that his eyes had darkened from desire.
"Why? I know you want this," she continued. "Come on, Draco…come on…"
He shook his head and turned away, grabbing his broomstick. "If you're going to come with me," he said softly, coldly, harshly, "then you better not do anything like that while we fly. I won't hesitate to leave you behind."
Crushed, she sat down on the ground and took a few deep breaths. How could he be saying this? He liked her, didn't he? Did he not find her attractive anymore? Not attractive enough for a quick bang? Somewhere in her mind Hermione was outraged at this whorish outlook on her own esteem; it really wasn't good to refer to yourself as a "quick bang". But in her current induced state and her yearn for sex she couldn't help it. "Please…" she tried again, even though she knew it was awful and desperate. "Please…"
This turned out to be a terrible idea. Draco gave her a long, calculating look (albeit never letting any sort of emotion show; she didn't know exactly how he felt; she could only guess) and picked up his broomstick. He didn't say anything else, just mounted the golden colored broomstick and rode off into the creamy grey sky.
He didn't look back once.
A/N: Well I know that wasn't the nicest of places to stop it, but I thought it was fitting. Hope the drugs didn't scare anyone, I did give a warning at the beginning. Let's see…ok, fifty kilometers is approximately, like, just a tad over thirty miles. I know this fic doesn't sound British at all but I thought I might as well use the metric system.
As usual, the questions you can ask yourself (lol they will be important later): why does Draco not want sex? Why does he actually leave her although he promised he wouldn't? Next time, we see all of this, plus Lucius's cottage, and maybe the introduction of some other, interesting people (from canon, these aren't OCs)
Thank you so much for your reviews. You don't know how much they mean to me, because even after chapter seven I was still thinking about leaving this fic because I felt I simply couldn't write it. I don't think I have the skill to write the captivated mystery of Draco or Hermione's confused identity… but I'm trying my best. The ideas just sound better in my head, I guess. Anyway, thanks again, and tell me what you thought of the chapter.
Oh before I forget: I have a new e-mail update list for this story! To be added, simply leave your e-mail in the review and I'll send you an e-mail every time a new chapter comes out!