Purely Physical Chapter 9

But I don't believe in love

And I can't be changed

All alone I have learnt to be

In this mess I have made

- 'Mess' by Ben Folds Five

She sat down abruptly, any fleeting feeling of euphoria or pleasure suddenly stripped from her. For a moment she simply sat in the woods, allowing herself to wallow in the sounds of chirping birds and running water. She stared up at the sky, willing the tears not to come, but she couldn't help it. Slowly salty water trickled down her face; tears of passion, tears of anger, tears of confusion, tears of worry. Why would he leave her? What was wrong with him?!

Hermione plucked a blade of grass in anger, slowly shredding it to pieces, squishing it with her animosity towards a certain blonde haired Slytherin. Once again she glanced up at the sky, today a deep azure, and muttered a stream of curses under her breath. How dare he! How dare he leave a girl stranded in the middle of the woods! She didn't even know where she was.

Panic rose up in her throat as she realized the implications of her last thought. She didn't know where she was. How was she supposed to get out? She felt weak and helpless and without—no. She was not going to think these thoughts. She was still Hermione Granger, and even though these last few days had been anything but normal in her life… she wasn't weak and she certainly wasn't helpless. She didn't need to depend on that unreliable, unbelievable, and untrustworthy boy. She didn't need him at all. She hated him, hated him, hated him!

Slowly she got up, wiping her tearstained eyes and making her way out of the woods. Her breath hitched as she left the clearing in fear that perhaps she did not know her way out. She wondered how long it had been since he had left her here…and there she was again, she thought miserably, thinking of the one boy that she vowed never to think of again. It turned out to be an arduous task. Everything reminded her of him. The waxy looking leaf blowing gently in afternoon winds made a clear memory of flying on the broomstick, the cold nipping gently at their bodies. The babbling stream…his enigmatic energy…

Hermione noticed that although she had been deep in contemplation, she had suddenly found a way out of the woods. Good, she thought happily, now if I can just trace my way back to that hotel… perhaps Warbleu can help me. He'd seemed nice enough, albeit apprehensive about her heritage, and very chivalrous; he couldn't turn a lady away. Anyway it was the best bet she had now that that stupid prat Draco Malfoy had left her here.

After a good long walk Hermione finally trudged up to the steps of the hotel. Nervously she swung open the heavy door and made her way to the front desk. To her dismay, Warbleu did not sit lazily behind the counter; rather, an older, disapproving woman with a stern gaze looked back at her.

Hermione swallowed. "Excuse me," she began timidly, afraid that the woman would suddenly lash out at her or something of the sort.

"Can I help you?" the woman responded with a snap. Even her words seemed narrow and uninviting.

"Er, I'm looking for a man, er, Warbleu, actually," Hermione faltered a bit under the woman's stony displeasure.

"I'm sorry," the woman began, though she did not sound sorry in the least, "he is not here right now and shan't be for the next few days."

Hermione stepped back, the surprise evident on her face. "Why, he was just here a few hours ago!" she exclaimed in dismay.

The cold woman shrugged. "That is none of my concern. Now if you'll excuse me I have other customers to tend to."

Looking wildly behind her, Hermione saw no one. "There is no one else," she protested, slightly inflamed at the woman's complete reluctance to help Hermione in the slightest. "Could you please tell me what has happened to Warbleu!"

The woman pinched up her nose further. Hermione's blood began to boil in anger but she tried her best to keep her temper down. Still, her nostrils flared and her expression was one of irritation. "No, I can't," the woman finally said. "It's none of your damned business, little girl, and I can't waste my time with your complaints. Now if you don't leave immediately, I'll have you arrested for loitering."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest at the unfairness of it all, but the woman picked up the phone menacingly and Hermione knew she wouldn't hesitate to act on her threat. Finally in desperation Hermione stomped out of the building, but on a wild impulse turned around and flicked the damned woman off before running in the opposite direction.

Slightly giggling, Hermione's anger dissipated as elation filled her. "That felt good!" she said to herself. For the first time she'd publicly displayed her anger in an unacceptable way, and somehow it filled her with a feeling of complete happiness. Stupid woman had deserved it anyway. It was lucky for her that Hermione hadn't taken out her wand and hexed her.

As the natural high from getting a form (okay, a weak form) of justice subsided, Hermione was once again faced with the problem of what the hell to do. She was stuck, no doubt, good and stuck. She couldn't really walk very far away from this hotel, because maybe there was this small chance that he'd come back. Although she didn't quite know what she'd do if Draco did happen to return. Would she accept him? She certainly couldn't turn him away; he was her ticket out of here… but would she forgive him?

What he had done was unforgivable! Leaving her here stranded! The devil! But maybe it was slightly her fault. He had said he would leave her if she continued to pester him for sex (and here she blushed and berated herself; she was such a whore!), and she had done exactly that. But still! That didn't give him any excuse to just off and leave her!

Hermione sat down on the grass and absent mindedly her thoughts drifted back to the earlier hours of the afternoon, namely the "activities" she had explored with Draco. She felt nauseous at the thought. She had thought that maybe drugs would help her through, help her find that thing that she was searching for… but they hadn't. Maybe it was because she'd chickened out at the last moment, opting only for a cigarette.

And the high hadn't even lasted very long.

So it really wasn't worth it, not for her. But at least she wasn't perfect anymore… she wasn't pure… was slightly tainted. Slightly dark. It had been a desperate measure to further destroy any identity she had, but it had succeeded, hadn't it? She'd been thoroughly confused, thoroughly unsettled, and that was what she wanted… right?

She didn't even know what she wanted.

But then again, did anyone know what they wanted? Look at Draco. Did he know? What did he want anyway? Why was he with her? Yet another question he had purposefully evaded. She envied his sly and deviant, yet enigmatic and unapproachable nature, but at the same time, she didn't want it for herself.

Something she had established, at least, in the last few days.

She'd mimicked him, followed his activities, and had realized that at least she didn't want to be a female version of Draco Malfoy.

Exhaling loudly, Hermione looked up and saw his face. He was there! He was standing right there, just a little bit away from her! He gave her an uncertain sort of smile when he saw that she had noticed him. "Hello," he began in what she could only assume was a tentative voice.

Exasperated, Hermione glared at him. "'Hello?' Is that all that you can say to me? I can't believe you! You left me here! How dare you! You horrible, rude, insufferable…"

She trailed off when she realized that none of what she was saying seemed to make an impression on him. His face remained exactly the same. His deep grey eyes did not display any form of emotion, only emanated an extraordinary amount of perception. His pointy nose was straight and centered. His lips were not pulled in a smirk, rather, they were slightly parted. His straight blonde hair was disheveled, but at the same time, it looked rather striking.

He was beautiful.

For the first time she truly realized it. He was beautiful. He was just the sort of boy you'd want a painting of. She smiled as she lost herself in memories of Muggle art…he was sort of a Mona Lisa, in a way. A beautiful, slightly depressed mystery.

"You were saying?" he asked quietly, immediately bringing her out of her daydreams.

"I was just…oh, forget it, you wouldn't understand. Maybe in your world it's quite all right to leave someone stranded in the middle of nowhere," she snapped tiredly, her mind still reeling from her sudden insight.

"Maybe you're the one who wouldn't understand," he said distractedly as he looked pointedly at the ground.

"Honestly!" Hermione yelled in frustration. "You're impossible!" She huffed away, tears pinpricking her eyes again. Why did he have to be this way? Why couldn't he be normal, like Ron or Harry? Why couldn't he be a hormonal teenager who didn't go around saying stuff like, 'maybe you're the one who wouldn't understand?' She hated that quality about him!

But she liked it, too, or else she wouldn't be here.

Hermione felt strong hands on her shoulders and immediately stiffened, even though she knew it was just Draco. "Look," he began, his voice soft and calming, "I'm sorry I left you. I honestly am. Turn around."

She couldn't help it; she did.

He was looking at the ground again, and for the first time Hermione could place his emotions very well. He was uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. He sighed. "Look," he said again. "I'm… I'm not sure why I'm here but…" he trailed off and looked right at her.

Grey eyes met brown ones and Hermione's mind exploded in fireworks. For a moment it seemed like she had understood him, had felt what he was feeling! Unfortunately her spark soon fizzled out and she was back where she was before… but it was as if she was one rung higher on the ladder. He was…oh, he just was! He was marvelous and beautiful and lovely and she enjoyed every moment of being with him.

"Hermione," he tried again, and she knew he was trying to say something important but couldn't place the words, "Like I said… I really don't know why I came with you…but I just want to…say that…I appreciate your company. You're like… a mate…well, no not really…what I'm trying to say is that…"

"That you're only human," Hermione smiled warmly towards him. "Draco, I know…for the first time I know what you mean. I feel it too…it's like a connection but I can't describe…we're not mates but we're not lovers…I don't know."

He gave her a heartwarming smile, and she noted it was the first time she saw a really genuine smile grace his features. All of his smiles were gorgeous, of course, they lit his face up in a manner that was close to unbelievable… but this smile was different, was so real and raw that it almost blinded her to look at it but at the same time she really couldn't stop.

She wondered if he was going to kiss her. This would be an ideal moment to do so. He'd never kissed her when it wasn't a tryst…and truth was, it'd be awfully nice if he did. She was beginning to think…no, she mustn't let herself think that. Closing her eyes expectantly she waited for a few seconds before opening them in disbelief to find that he had already turned around and was making his way to his broom.

He'd shut himself off again.

Hermione wanted to yank her hair out in frustration but refused to let herself do so. She wasn't going to succumb to the idiocy of his erratic tendencies.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder. "Let's go check out the Malfoy cottage."

With a small sigh she followed him, half-angry but half-relieved that the moment hadn't gotten any more intense. Mounting the broomstick the two flew through perfect weather. Hermione's favorite weather, to be exact. A cool, crisp, and sunny day with blue skies. The perfect mixture of winter and summer.

They flew for what seemed to be an eternity of bliss. It was the first broom ride that Hermione really enjoyed. It was the first broom ride when she didn't notice how high off the ground they were, how the broom swerved from left to right, how her stomach seemed to drop with every swoop of the broomstick. Soon they had reached the cottage and Hermione had to snort with laughter when she saw what the Malfoys deemed a cottage.

"Cottage!" she sputtered to Draco, who was looking at her to presumably see her reaction. "Hardly!"

"Well, I know," he began shyly, "I guess it's a bit large for a cottage."

"A bit? Golly! You could fit a family of ten in this thing and still have room for guests! Cottage! I suppose, however, that compared to your home it is a simple thing, though?" she teased.

He shrugged. "Yeah, that place is pretty damn big. But Lucius likes his homes that way. My mum, not so much."

Hermione was immediately interested. She found that she was always interested when it came to a tidbit of Malfoy history or knowledge. Maybe because the family in itself was so unique and different. They were evil, sure, but evil was a generic word. She wanted to know just how they were evil. There had to be more than the head of the family's dabbles in the Dark Arts. "Really?" she asked casually. "Your mum doesn't like your house?"

"Well, no, it's not that. She likes space too. But she thinks our house is a bit much. But Lucius, the old chap really likes his privacy. My mum hates that. She thinks it distanced our family. But this is the same lady who keeps a book on contraceptive charms on every landing, should I ever feel the need to look one up," he said seriously.

In spite of herself, Hermione burst out laughing. "She really does that?" she asked.

Draco nodded. "I'm dead serious."

"My mother would be awfully disappointed in me if she found out I was engaging in sexual relations," Hermione said suddenly. She didn't know why she'd chosen to share that particular bit of information. It was something she herself didn't acknowledge because she didn't like thinking about it.

"Then why do you? Rebellion?" came his quick and as usual thoughtful response.

She sighed. "I don't know. There are things in this world that… I just can't figure out why I do them. Why I strive for good grades is one. I mean of course the immediate benefits of good grades are obvious… acceptance into a good university, which leads to a good career, which usually is the foundation for a good life… but what compelled me to strive for good grades in the first place? What motivation was there? Why did I have an inherent desire to get good grades? It's questions like these..." she trailed off.

He gave her a look. "You're quite philosophical. I like that."

Her heart swelled at his compliment/observation/feel good moment and she followed him into the "cottage" curious to see what it looked like. If possible it was more magnificent on the inside than it was on the outside. "It's lovely," she breathed. "Does your dad come here a lot? I would, if it were mine… it's like a haven."

Draco shrugged. "I really don't know. Like I said, Lucius and I aren't very close. He does believe in letting one experience things for himself. I remember when Lucius found out that I did muggle drugs. He was very upset—the whole reason I did the muggle ones anyway is because he hates muggles, wanted to see how far I could push it, you know—but then he sort of calmed down and left. He's hardly a fatherly figure."

Draco went off to do whatever he did while Hermione decided to explore the cottage. In the back of her brain niggled the thought that she was missing so much school, but at the moment, Lucius' exquisite taste in decorating and such was truly winning her over. It was marvelous here, simply marvelous. The bedrooms and bathrooms were completely done up in rich warm colors like burgundies and gingers with contrasts such as lemons and obsidians. There was a beautiful, airy library that hosted a number of books that Hermione's hands itched to touch. A huge sprawling kitchen that oozed wealth and a luxurious spa that seemed to stream Galleons. I can't believe they call this a cottage, Hermione found herself thinking.

She walked into the spa room and the first thing that caught her eye was a large and strategically placed mirror. Intrigued, Hermione made her way over to it and stood in front of it. She nearly jumped back as the mirror began to talk. "Hello there, Hermione Granger," it said and she shrank back further.

"How do you know my name?" she finally asked.

It smiled, and Hermione made a mental note to tell her parents that she'd seen a mirror smile. "Because I not only see your reflection, I see who you are."

"Well…" Hermione began awkwardly, "I'm not just Hermione Granger. There's more to me than a name."

"But of course," the mirror responded quickly. "I see some of it; other things are blurred from my probing glass because you wish to hide it. Some of it I can still make out though."

Hermione looked deeply into the mirror and observed her reflection as she tried to process the mirror's words. There she was, a normal teenage girl. She was unfortunately, rather short, just a few inches over five feet, she supposed. Her hair, though not as bushy as it had been in her first few years at Hogwarts, was comprised of wild curls that came down nearly to her mid-back, and her eyes remained a boring sort of brown. At least she had her teeth though, now no longer reminiscent of a beaver. She sighed.

"Don't worry," the mirror said, as if reading her thoughts. "You aren't half-bad looking, dear. In fact you're rather pretty."

"Thank you," Hermione replied graciously. "It's… it's not that, I suppose I'm fairly confident about it… well, I'm one of those girls who isn't particularly pretty or striking, but I'm decent, you know? Fair, I guess."

She couldn't believe it. She was having a girly heart-to-heart with a mirror, for goodness sake. With a mirror! She was confiding in a mirror when she couldn't confide in any of the girls she knew at Hogwarts; not Lavender, not Parvati, not Ginny, not Mandy, not Sally Anne… none of them.

"But there's a glow that I sense from you," the mirror was saying with impeccable clarity, "an aura almost. I think I can place it. Shall I tell you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow in interest. An aura? A glow? What was this? "Of course."

"It's love, my dear. I can't see how you don't see it. Fairly obvious, isn't it?"

Before Hermione could even process the words, she heard movement on the other side of the room and swiftly turned around to see Draco standing in the doorway. "You like my father's mirror, do you?" he asked amusedly.

She blushed. "Oh, I was just… exploring," she finished up lamely. "Excuse me, I have to use the restroom, could you leave for a moment?"

She didn't know how she came up with such a rational excuse at such an irrational time, but thankfully he left. Only then did the oceans begin to churn in her ears. She felt sick to her stomach as the mirror's words echoed in her head. Love. Love. Love. She didn't fall in love. No! She didn't even fancy him, let alone love him!

But. There was always a but. She didn't fancy him; that was true. Her attraction to him wasn't just sexual, wasn't just a quick crush that eventually faded out. What she felt towards him was more than a confused sense of hormones… it was… it was love. She couldn't place it at first, but of course it was love. A different kind of love, a kind of love you had to work at, but then of course you had to work at all kinds of love.

She loved him.

She loved him! The words truly sunk into her and she knew why she couldn't keep him out of her head, why she yearned not only to make love to him (make love!) but to talk to him, to truly understand him, to have a connection with him.

She stepped out of the room for a walk. Hermione needed to calm herself down. She had to get used to this new word that penned her feelings. But before she could really do anything, she turned a corner and saw a face she had not expected.

"Oh, hello, Miss Granger, I believe," came the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy, silky, smooth, dangerous, "I didn't quite expect to see you here."

A/N: Well, another chapter is out. I hope you guys liked it. I just have some things to say. First question some people asked was, is Hermione going to be a druggie? So she tried one cigarette. No. She's not going to be a druggie. Second was, why does Draco do muggle drugs? I answered it in the chapter, I hope it wasn't awkwardly phrased. It just seemed you know, another mindless act of rebellion, cuz I think lots of children often can be penned "rebels without a cause".

I have two reviewer notes I'd like to do. My first one goes out to rainboworld: Thanks for my first flame ever. I was waiting for that one. And no, the previous chapter was not written from experience, I'm not a druggie; the only thing I've ever tried is a cigarette, and I didn't like it, and I definitely don't smoke. But hey it's got to mean I described it well if you think I wrote it from experience, huh? ;)

Secondly to beachLEMON: thank you so much for your encouraging review. It made me feel soo much better! The world needs more reviewers like you! muah I think I inappropriately love you. (just kidding).

Thanks everyone! Once again I do have a mailing list for the story. If you would like to be added please leave your e-mail address. Please review, too. I want to know what you thought.