Purely Physical Chapter 11

Immobilized by the thought of you

Paralyzed by the sight of you

Hypnotized by the words you say

Not true but I believe them anyway

- Shiver by Maroon 5

Hermione woke early the next morning and stretched languidly as bright sunlight streamed in through her window, illuminating her curtains. The pleasant feeling was ripped from her as last night's dream came back to haunt her immediately. It had been the same dream…he had looked so evil, standing there, and this time he'd beckoned her to follow him. Follow him where? She found herself asking, and her body shuddered at the thought. He was going to show her something…and he had. A wall. A wall with "mudblood" sprawled across in bold red letters. In blood. Tainted, impure blood. With a jolt she remembered that today was the first day of her winter vacation. Shaking off her dream (or rather, nightmare), she morosely thought she didn't exactly deserve a lovely Christmas break.

For now that Hermione was back, guilt had swooped through her over and over until it was embedded quite deeply in the pit of her stomach, and by the looks of it, beginning to spread. Last night she hadn't gone and talked to her professors as planned, hadn't asked about make-up work. She hadn't given Ron and Harry any explanation whatsoever. All she'd done was call off that stupid tryst she had with him, because suddenly he had jumped to priority number one.

No more of that. The Hermione Granger of old was back. She was back at school, she felt fresh, and she would work, work, work until it was as if she hadn't missed any class at all. And the first thing she was going to do, right now? Give Ron and Harry an explanation. She knew that had either of them been in her shoes, she would've been out of her mind with worry if they'd disappeared. She owed this to them, no matter how difficult it was to tell them that she'd run off with their arch-nemesis.

Getting dressed she made her way down to breakfast, hoping that they would be there. As far as she knew, both of them had decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas break, and after much deliberation, Hermione had decided she couldn't go home either. Not now. She could use these few weeks to renew a good friendship with her friends, to catch up on her work, and mostly to forget about him.

It was odd, now that she realized that her feelings were a lot deeper than just sex. She'd dropped the "relationship" because she'd realized she didn't want to taint a first love with just a physical relationship. He took it in good fun; suddenly, it meant a lot more to her than just that. And she wanted no part of it, because she knew perfectly well he didn't reciprocate any feelings of the sort. He was closed off; he wouldn't share his heart with anyone.

Hermione had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized she'd already made it to the breakfast table. Luckily both Harry and Ron sat at the nearly-empty table. A quick glance around the Great Hall told her that most of the students had gone home for Christmas break. She couldn't help it; she snuck a long look at the Slytherin table. He wasn't there. She breathed a sigh, but she wasn't sure if it was of relief or of disappointment.

It was for the best that Draco wasn't there. It was the easiest way to ease him from her thoughts. Turning her attention to her friends, she gave a cheery, "Good morning, boys!"

"Hermione," Harry smiled warmly at her. "Are you feeling any better?"

She slipped into a seat by them and helped herself to some breakfast. "Oh, yes, loads. I was just exhausted yesterday."

Hermione unexpectedly remembered all the vicious insults thrown her way yesterday. "I didn't want to come in here," she explained, "because every time I did, people said some really awful stuff."

Ron swallowed whatever was in his mouth and began to speak in earnest. "The rumors, they aren't true are they?"

A prick of anger passed through her veins, but she swallowed it down. All he was looking for was reassurance; he knew of course that they weren't true…whatever they were. Hermione realized she didn't exactly know what was being said about her. "What are the rumors?"

Harry and Ron shared an uneasy look. "There are a lot of rumors," Ron finally began.

"Yeah, you know Hogwarts, there are an insane amount of rumors here. I'm sure most people know they aren't true," Harry added.

"Just tell me what they are," Hermione snapped. "I can take them. Honestly. The things people believe at this school are absolutely ridiculous."

"Well…there's one that says Malfoy took you to get the Dark Mark," Ron sighed. "And that the two of you are now Death-Eaters and you were away on your initiation."

"Hardly," Hermione snorted. "I hope you two dispelled that."

"We're trying to dispel them all," Harry assured her. "Anyhow that one is just ludicrous. Everyone knows how much you've helped in the Order, honestly…"

"Well, if that's the ludicrous one," Hermione said, a knot of anxiety tugging at her stomach, "what are the believable ones?"

"Well, we don't believe them of course," Ron started.

"Then why did you ask me if they were true or not?" Hermione bit out, unable to control herself.

"Look, I'm sorry," Ron sighed, "but it did look like it was true for a moment. But of course it isn't," he added hastily at Harry's glare, "of course it's not. Basically…a lot of people were saying…" he trailed off and looked to Harry for support.

"That you were Malfoy's…whore," Harry said uncomfortably, "and you went with him to give away any information on your friends in return for his, ah, affections."

"What?" Hermione demanded. "How could you even believe that I would ever sell you two out for…for…sex?!" she finally spat. The roar behind her ears was louder than it had ever been before, because one part of that…one part of that was true. She was his whore, and he was hers. She had been, she corrected herself, there would be no more.

"We didn't," Harry touched her arm gently. "Some people also believed that ah, you and Malfoy had… er, done things at school…which required you to leave for a bit so…you could, er, either have your baby or abort it."

Hermione shook her head derisively. "Idiots," she scowled. "I hope you two didn't believe that."

"No, not at all," Ron said a little too quickly. "It's just that, people bought it because of all the wizarding robes that hide, um, pregnancies, and…abortions and pregnancies are pretty rare among teenagers in our world…you know, because of all the contraceptive charms; nothing of the sort is heard of here at Hogwarts."

"Right," Hermione sighed. "Well, I promise there was no baby, no Dark Mark, no selling of secrets for sex."

"Hermione," Harry smiled, "Ron and I would really appreciate if you could tell us, exactly why you left…and why with Malfoy. I know…you were getting a bit friendly with him but…does that mean you'll run away with him?"

"Wait," Ron looked perplexed, "you're friendly with Malfoy?" His expression told her that he had clearly believed the rumor that she'd already heard in the halls—that Malfoy had kidnapped her and tortured her, or something equally violent.

"Well, a bit," Hermione conceded. "Not that much. Look, you want to know the truth? The truth is I was tired of studying and tired of…being so perfect, being such a good girl…I just went out for a bit. That's all."

"We'd believe that," Harry told her, "if you told us exactly what Malfoy has to do with any of that."

Hermione swallowed. What was she supposed to tell them? "The night that I decided to leave, I saw him on his broomstick. It turns out that he was all set to go, too," she lied uneasily, unable to tell them that she'd practically begged for him to come along, "so we just ended up going together. That's it."

"And became friendly in the process," Ron frowned darkly. "Hermione, he's dangerous! I mean, look at his father…"

"He isn't his father, Ron," Hermione glowered. "I think he's an innocent. He doesn't know a thing and all he cares about is himself."

"Selfish prat," Ron muttered.

"We're only inquiring," Harry pacified, as usual, "because we don't want you to get hurt. It's the truth Hermione. His family is a dangerous one, and… no offense, but they're especially dangerous to someone like you. You're my best friend, you're a staunch Gryffindor and fighter against Voldemort, and you're Muggleborn. Three things they hate."

Hermione knew Harry was telling the truth, from his perception of Draco Malfoy. "Don't worry," she instructed, "because I can take care of myself. I promise."

"We're just glad to have you back," Ron grinned.

Maybe not that much had changed after all, Hermione thought happily. Maybe she could pick up right where she'd left.

Hermione spent the rest of the morning visiting her professors. She'd swallowed her nervousness and seen every last one of them, including Professor Snape. Needless to say, that one hadn't gone very well. He'd given her a harsh, disapproving glare, only a bit meaner than some of the other professors, save Professor McGonagall, who had only clucked sympathetically. She smiled as she looked at the thick assignments in her hand. Copious amounts of work to be done, and she wasn't complaining because now she had something to keep her occupied.

She worked in the library all afternoon, not even breaking for lunch. Twice Harry and Ron came to check on her and assured that this was still their lovable, hard-working, Hermione they resumed whatever activities they'd planned for themselves.

Just as she was putting the finishing touches on her three-foot long essay on an illegal love potions essay for Professor Snape, she sensed that someone was watching her. Apprehensively, she looked around, but there were only shadows around her. Discomfited, Hermione returned to her work, but she couldn't shake it. Finally she sighed and pushed away the parchment, deciding her attempts were futile. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and she fidgeted, wishing that it would just end.

And then it did. He prowled over to her table, greeting her with a small smirk. "Hermione."

"Draco," she replied coldly, relieved and angry all at once. How could he terrify her like that? How could she let him get to her?

He sat down ceremoniously next to her. "I see you've begun making up your assignments."

"Yes," Hermione didn't let her surprise show that he was here, talking to her, especially after she told him she wanted out. She knew that was his only interest in her; why was he still here? Was it something to do with that awful dream? Was it about to come true? "I practically had to beg the professors to let me make-up my work. It wouldn't do to get zeroes on all those assignments; my grades would be shot."

He nodded. "They are still important to you."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Hermione shrugged. "Of course. They'll always be important to me."

He didn't say anything, only pulled a book out of his cloak and begun to read. Stunned, Hermione simply watched him for a few moments and then decided that she might as well work on her assignments. Still, she couldn't help thinking of him every few seconds and glance over at him. He continued to read, not looking up once. The only movement he made was to brush his hair away from his eyes every few minutes.

Finally she worked the nerve to ask something that had been bothering her since he'd sat down. "Why are you here?"

He looked up and Hermione thought she could read him again. It was the second time in the last two days that she'd thought she understood, if just for half a second, what he was thinking. And right now he was thinking, "I've been waiting for you to ask me that."

"I have to talk to you," he finally said. "Not here."

"Then where?" she protested. "This place is quiet, and empty. Madame Pince is in her office. There aren't any other students here… and wait," she suddenly recalled, "it's Christmas break! I thought you went home!"

"I didn't want to," he answered shortly. "I thought I'd had enough of Lucius yesterday; I don't want to spend the next few weeks with him either."

"Well, what about your mother?" she questioned.

"What about her?" His expression was blank but Hermione could, just maybe (if she wasn't mistaken) detect by the tone that he did care about the woman in question.

"Well, don't you want to see her?"

"Don't you want to see yours?" he reciprocated.

He had her there. She smiled at him warmly. "Well, I'm sorry for pressing," she said lightly.

"Look, honestly, I've got to talk to you," he sighed. "All right, here is fine, but, Potter and Weasley won't come in will they?"

Hermione considered. "I don't think so," she finally answered honestly. "They've come in twice but each time I've been immersed in my books…and I think they mentioned something about wanting to visit Zonko's…they may be in Hogsmeade."

"Zonko's?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "It's not a Hogsmeade weekend."

"I know," she smiled, "but they've got a way to get to Hogsmeade regardless. A silly, careless thing to do on their part, but I suppose they were bored."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Idiots," he scowled. "Anyhow…I apologize for not telling you earlier."

Immediately she was on alert. "Telling me what?" she asked sharply.

He looked down. Hermione wondered if he was afraid that she'd be able to tell how he felt. Why was he so afraid of letting people know? Why did he act like he was a cold, unfeeling person? Everyone had feelings, and Hermione, although not as naïve as she once was, was puzzled as to why he just wouldn't share.

He'd share his body with her but he couldn't share an expression of disgust? Of sorrow? Of pity?

"The other day, you remember when I gave you a cigarette?"

She nodded, and numbness began to swiftly seep into her body.

"Well…it wasn't a cigarette."

She inhaled and gazed at him piercingly. She couldn't, wouldn't understand. He wouldn't betray her like that, would he? Deliberately lie to her? About something she put in her body? "Then what was it?" she finally managed.

"A wizard drug wrapped up in something similar to a cigarette." He didn't flinch as he spoke it; didn't look perturbed at all. "If you'd ever had a cigarette before you would've realized it wasn't one."

"I've smelled them," she protested, hot embarrassment tinting her features, "It smelled like one."

"Yeah. It's charmed to do that."

"But…but why?!" she finally cried out, losing her control for a moment. This couldn't be happening. What had she done to herself? What had this drug done?! One cigarette wouldn't kill you; but one whiff of a powerful wizard drug could do that. What had it been?!

"Cigarettes don't make you high," he told her seriously. "And this drug—DX, it's called on the streets—it makes you really high, but for only a short period of time. Because what it's really meant to do," he stopped for a second before going on, "is to give you dreams."

Her dreams came rushing back to her. An evil Draco Malfoy showing her a wall with "mudblood" written on it. Draco telling her he wanted to show her something. Draco with eyes so malevolent she shuddered to remember them. "The dreams," she repeated. "What do they show?"

"Your fears."

She was afraid of him. How was that even possible? Merlin she loved this boy, and at the same time she was frightened of him? What was wrong with her? "What kind of fears?" she didn't let anything on. She couldn't let him know. And if it showed her fears, how come she wasn't dreaming of Voldemort taking over the school and killing people left and right?

"The kind that pertain to you, only. Like for example you wouldn't dream of a massacre or anything because it isn't just your fear. If it's a fear that belongs exclusively to you—if it's a fear you want to hide—you'll dream about it. It's not a drug people take intentionally, except a few who don't mind the dreams in return for that short high. It's not very addictive, however."

"Why would you do this?" she said softly, burying her head in her hands. She'd had him pegged all wrong…all wrong. She had thought he was innocent; he only cared about himself; he'd never hurt her.

Maybe Dumbledore and Ron were right. He was too dangerous. Granted, it wasn't a life-threatening thing that he'd done, but it proved that he was capable of much more than she'd originally thought.

"Hermione," his voice was barely a whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You never told me why," she snapped, disregarding his apology. "Why?"

"Because…" he faltered, "I wanted to scare you."

She'd given her heart to an immature, untrustworthy, slimy Slytherin prat. She knew it now. He hadn't changed at all. They were right. Everyone else was right. She was wrong; she had been blinded. She was an idiot. Without sparing him a glance she told him to get out.

"You didn't ask me why I wanted to scare you," he remonstrated.

"I don't care," she spat. "If you don't leave right now I'll hex you. I'm serious. I know plenty of them and I'll make sure that when I'm through nobody will recognize you." It hurt her to say these things, because she thought she'd outgrown them, but obviously not. Not when Draco was just such a bloody idiot.

"I wanted to scare you," he sighed, "because…because I wanted you to hate me."

Hermione had been trying to ignore him but at these words she looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I knew you'd dream about me…you had to fear me. Everyone does, at one point or another. Some constantly do. And…I thought it would make you hate me. I was just waiting for it to happen. I thought it happened yesterday when you called it off."

"I called it off for an entirely different reason!" Yes. The exact opposite reason, in fact. Of course she wasn't about to tell him, however, that she'd called it off because she loved him. "And anyway," she continued, looking at him dangerously, "if you wanted me to hate you, why in Merlin's name are you sitting here explaining it all to me?"

Draco didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he spoke, quite simply. "You're the first person to make me feel guilty."

He departed with an elegant swish of his robes before she could regain her ability to speak. She didn't even know what to think; let alone what to say. If earlier she'd been puzzled about him, now she was downright confused. And in the middle of all of it were her teenage hormones, telling her to fuck him, to love him, to hate him, to want him, to love him some more…

Well, she thought forlornly, it did prove one thing. He definitely could feel.

A/N: See? It didn't take me forever to update! Well, I know I got a ton of responses that say, you don't get high off of a cigarette. I know, I know…and I've had this planned so I didn't want to say anything. Don't worry. There will be more talk about DX and stuff. But this was kind of crucial in the Draco/Hermione relationship. Anyway, tell me what you thought of this chapter.

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