Purely Physical Chapter 13

A/N: Holy bleep , I'm updating! Sorry kids. 1st semester was a real bitch but now that it's over I can finally update some stuff.

The trouble with love is

it can tear you up inside

make you heart believe a lie

it's stronger than your pride

the trouble with love is

it doesn't care how fast you fall

- The Trouble With Love Is, by Kelly Clarkson

"Thank God," Ron declared firmly as the trio headed to The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. "I thought I was going to absolutelydie this past week."

"I know. If it hadn't been a Hogsmeade weekend…" Harry trailed off, looking positively exhausted.

"You two would have come here anyway," Hermione finished the sentence for him. It was true. The two had never been much for rules and often roped in Hermione with their little schemes.

"That is true," Ron agreed. "Three butterbeers please," he said as they stepped into the toasty warm atmosphere. February was no warmer than January had been, except perhaps that the moods were lighter.

Last month had been the month from hell. The first week of January, they had all attended Fudge's funeral. It had been a sad, somber affair, except there had been one rather large beacon of hope. None other than Arthur Weasley had been appointed the next minister of magic, and although Molly Weasley had been awfully worried for her husband's safety, even that did not put a damper on the family's joy.

Since then Ron had grown newfound confidence and rarely resorted to using his fists. Of course there were occasions in which fistplay did result, but after all, it was Ron, and old habits die hard.

Surprisingly, Hermione mused as she sipped her warm butterbeer, the change in Arthur's position had had a strange effect on Ginny Weasley. Ginny, normally bubbly and vivacious, had turned strangely quiet and hardly ever spoke. Ron had tried to no avail to get her to cheer up again, but she wouldn't.

Hermione made up her mind to have a chat with Ginny and see if perhaps she would open up to Hermione, if only for the fact that Hermione was another girl and could maybe relate better.

The three of them sat around, chatting, glad for the break. Studies this term were grueling, and if you added in the death of Cornelius Fudge, numerous Muggle deaths courtesy of Voldemort, and the fact that a war was brewing on the horizon, the result was a very stressful time indeed.

"So, Hermione," Ron gestured. "What do you think of Harry's new interest?"

Hermione laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Harry, you're after someone else now? Who?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno what Ron's on about," he said defensively. "I haven't got my eye on anyone right now. There's no time!"

"Don't lie," Ron chided. "I know the way you look at her! I'm sure she'll go for you, oh-Mr.-I'm-so-great Harry Potter, Lord of the Lightning Scar!"

"Ron, shut up," Harry replied shortly, half-joking, half-serious. Hermione knew it was because even after all these years, Harry was rather touchy about his fame and the way girls threw themselves at him.

"Never mind what Ron says," Hermione continued, brushing aside Ron's jabs, "I want to know who you fancy. Come on, spill."

"Only if you tell me who you like," Harry grinned impishly. "Come on, Hermione. You've never divulged that information to Ron or me."

Ron made a face. "You don't need to share that anyway," he took a large swig of butterbeer, "because I honestly don't care."

"Not this again!" Hermione hated when they squabbled over silly things like this, but Ron always had a nasty habit of bringing out the worst of everything. "Harry, we are not talking about this because Ron isn't mature enough to handle it."

"Fine whatever," Harry shrugged. "Let's go to Zonko's. I want to stock up on some items," he changed the subject.

But Hermione was in no mood to peruse a joke shop at the moment. Harry had brought up a question which she spent quite a lot of time dwelling on, but was not able to find a good answer. "You guys go ahead," she told her friends, "I'm off to a bookshop."

"Bookworm Granger," the two of them teased her simultaneously. "All right, you," Ron said by ways of make-up, "we'll see you later. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Very funny, Ron, now what exactly does that exclude?" Harry teased and the boys left.

Hermione stared after the two for a moment before making her way through the cold snow to a nice, cozy little bookshop. It was in a little nook, and if you didn't look closely, you might miss it. But Hermione had discovered it at the beginning of her sixth year and her voracious appetite for books kept her coming back for more. The tiny shop, owned by a tiny man and his wife, had a large collection of books that Hermione couldn't get enough of.

Not once had she ever seen another Hogwarts student here. The shop, simply named Pages, offered warmth and comfort and most of all escape. A good form of escape, Hermione thought to herself, remembering her December adventure a couple of months ago. Time had passed since then…but things between Draco and her were still the same.

At times she really hated him. He was a first-class jerk arsehole idiot prat fool, she'd think, but then she would look at his beauty and the harsh words would melt away to reveal a soft-spoken core of love. She couldn't help it. She loved him still, and had a feeling she'd always love him no matter how he treated her.

Mind you, it wasn't badly. But it wasn't nicely either. The last time she'd had sex with him had been during their runaway, which had been a while ago. That was the last time she'd ever really done anything with him. Now, the best word to describe their relationship was cordial. They were affable acquaintances. They didn't hate each other, but didn't love each other.

They spoke occasionally, when they brushed each other in the hall or something. In the first few weeks after the Millicent debacle, Hermione had been so worried that he would bring it up, but he never had…it was almost if it had faded away. Like the ocean tide was lapping at the shore, but now it never came out far onto the beach. She never could feel him anymore, only see him in the distance.

She wanted something to happen between them. Something that would put this whole standstill thing off and push it in one direction or the other. Of course she wished that it would push her relationship with him into a conventional, boyfriend-girlfriend sort of thing, but she doubted it would happen. Nothing about Draco or Hermione was conventional, after all. What had started as rough, passionate, stress-relieving sex had slowly morphed into nothing at all. Maybe there wasn't any passion left. Maybe he'd found another way to release his tension.

Hermione wanted to talk to him about it. She was aware that it was a girly thing to do; that maybe he wouldn't take to it very well, but she couldn't help but want to tell him how she felt. When you love someone so badly, you want them to know, even if you know that they'll only snub you.

For the last few months, Hermione had held it in, but she knew she wouldn't be able to for very much longer. She didn't care about the sex with him anymore. Lots of girls' fantasies revolved around the X-rated material, the fleshy, carnal desires, but not Hermione. Hermione liked to think of his warm, protective hand slipping over her own. Hermione liked to think of the taste of his lips in a chaste, sweet kiss. Hermione liked to think of the brilliant conversations they would have, the intellectual stimulation that he would provide.

So what if she was different? She couldn't help it. She loved him through his flaws; through his uncertainty; through his unreadable, enigmatic actions. He was so confusing, and she hated that, but at the same time it made him all the more endearing.

Just as she was speculating over him, he strolled quite amicably into her spot. Her bookstore. She nearly screamed with shock. Never before she had met anyone from Hogwarts in here, and now to see him…?! Was it fate? Was it coincidence? Nervously Hermione hid behind a bookshelf. She wasn't sure why exactly she was hiding, all she knew was that now was not a good time to face him.

It didn't matter, because he walked with a purpose, and she knew that purpose was to find her. "Hermione," his voice came low, "I know you are in here. Come on."

So she stepped out, trying to swallow her fear and her love, trying to show him that she was just as aloof as he was. "what is it?"

He held out his hand. "Let's talk," he suggested. "Let's go back to the school. There is no one there."

She did not take it, but agreed. "Fine. I'll meet you in the library, then. In five minutes."

"Don't be silly," he reproved, and grabbed her hand. "You'll come with me. Let's just go through the passageway through Honeydukes. It's faster."

She agreed but it wasn't like she had much of a choice. She wondered if his tight grip counted as that warm, protective, tender hand-holding that she craved. Maybe. It wasn't as if what she really wanted would ever work out. As she stumbled along behind him, she had to blink back tears as she remembered the last time she really talked to him.

Because she knew he wasn't worth this much pain.

No one was worth this! No one was worth spending all night trying to figure out who he was, no one was worth all the sweat and tears she had put in him, no one was worth Hermione's heart…no one that would tear it in two, and she was pretty sure he would. Hermione knew he wasn't mature enough for her. She knew he wouldn't give her what she wanted, and all the same, she was still enamored with him.

Soon they were sitting secluded in Hogwarts' library. Even Madame Pince was nowhere to be found. "What is it?" Hermione demanded tersely, not wanting to let him know just how deeply she felt about him. Not yet.

"Well…I was hoping you could help me out," he replied evasively. Hermione stared at him. He looked the same as always. Exquisitely crafted, pale, blond, tall, slender, beautiful…

"With what?" She couldn't help that her tone sounded suspicious. After all it wasn't as if they talked often.

"Well, it's nearly Valentine's Day…and I figure I ought to buy my mother something. To make up for the… mess I've made this year," he looked her straight in the eyes, and Hermione could almost hear him asking, "dare me to tell if I'm lying to you".

Because she was pretty sure he was. He couldn't be serious. He would seek her out to ask help for a gift? And wasn't he the master of such things? "Roses, maybe," she responded, feeling a little out-of-sorts. "A box of chocolates. A subscription to a favorite magazine."

"Okay."

His response was so laconic, so unemotional, that Hermione felt herself go cold. Was this possible? What was he doing to her? "Look, Draco," she started quickly, "I don't know what your deal is. You're infuriating! Please don't tell me you purposely sought me out so that you could ask what to get your mother for Valentine's Day. Do you even believe in that nonsense?"

He licked his lips. "Fine," he said bitterly, "you caught me. I just wanted to talk to you. We haven't spoken in a while."

"Maybe that's the way I like things to be," she bit back. She didn't know why Draco was able to do this, but he was certainly very good at pissing her the hell off.

"Good," he sounded cold and angry for just a split-second before returning to the look of placidity that she was used to. "Good."

He left so fast that Hermione almost felt like she had dreamed up the entire conversation. All five minutes of it, at least. What was his problem? Why did he have to be such an insufferable prat, for lack of a better word?

Because she was in the library, and because even after all the changes she'd been through she was still the same Hermione, Hermione started to work on a Charms essay, in hopes of pushing him out of her mind. Hopefully, for good.

-----

I wanted you to hate me. Draco had said those words to her once, and they had made her feel so angry, so mad at him for ever saying something like that. Hot droplets of love sailed down her face in anger as she cried herself to sleep. No matter how much she tried now, she couldn't hate him. She just couldn't.

That night she dreamed again, a DX-induced dream featuring an evil Draco Malfoy trying to kill her. When she woke up she was scared out of her wits and could barely breathe for fear that the dream would become reality.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Parvati asked as she slipped on her robes. "You're up late for one, and secondly, you look terrified."

"I had a bad dream," Hermione sighed, not untruthfully. "I'm awfully tired. I don't want to go to class today. In fact, I think I won't."

"What?" Lavender gasped. "Hermione! Today is major, major NEWT review in Potions of all classes! You cannot possibly skip!"

"I can, and I will," Hermione replied resolutely, although a worried shiver gnawed at her stomach.

"suit yourself," Parvati shrugged although she looked surprised, "but you will regret it, sweetie. I promise."

"You're right," Hermione acknowledged, "but I am feeling downright horrid and there is no way you're dragging me to Snape's dungeon."

"Fine then," her roommates agreed, "but we will drag you to Madame Pomfrey. No ifs, ands, or buts."

So that was how Hermione found herself alone in bed, in the hospital ward, utterly and completely bored. Madame Pomfrey had fussed over her like anything. "Darling, you look completely shaken," she tut-tutted to herself. "I don't know what the matter is, but you're also turning awfully cold."

It was true. As the day progressed, Hermione's skin was kissed colder and colder, until it was positively frigid. Perhaps she was really getting sick. How unfortunate, she thought sarcastically, since so many people would miss her and everything. Harry and Ron paid her a visit during lunch.

"We hope you feel better," they chorused, and left her a pile of chocolate frogs to devour. Ron had even brought along a few jokes from Fred and George, but Hermione was miserable enough to not even want to look at them.

Right before dinner, Ginny stopped by, something that was surprising enough in itself. Ginny, who had become increasingly withdrawn since her father's promotion, actually talking was quite strange. "Hello, Hermione," she said quietly.

Hermione smiled back at a girl she once considered her friend.

"Listen, I know I've been acting really weird lately," Ginny began. "It's just… it's just…"

"What is it?" Hermione asked sharply, perhaps too sharply. Immediately she softened her voice. "What is it?" she repeated.

"I know everyone thinks it's all to do with Dad's new position, but it's really not," Ginny explained. And suddenly she laughed. "You'll think it's silly."

"No, I won't," Hermione promised. Silly? Somehow she didn't think anything was silly anymore. You couldn't help thinking about strange stuff, thinking about boys, thinking about how much they absolutely sucked… "Go on," Hermione prompted.

"Well, it's just…" Ginny trailed off. "This is hard to say."

"That's all right. You don't have to say if you don't want to," Hermione backed off. Sometimes it was best not to bug someone about something, and then maybe if they felt comfortable, they would actually tell you. Hermione felt guilty for using such a tactic, but she couldn't help it; she was bored, and here Ginny looked like she had something really interesting to spill.

"No, I want to," Ginny insisted firmly. "I've developed a sort of… infatuation, I suppose, with a certain Slytherin."

Hermione's heart stopped for a second, and then all of a sudden her heartbeat intensified. Perhaps she could relate a lot better to Gin's story than she had originally thought…and then Ginny continued.

"I'm…I fancy myself in love with Draco Malfoy."

Amazingly, the first thought that came to Hermione's head wasn't something along the lines of how it could be possible, or how much she hated Ginny to say that, or even why Ginny felt that way… it was just a simple, wry, reflection on how Ginny had taken the words right out of her mouth.

A/N: I hope you all liked it! I'll try to update faster, I really will! Please review and tell me what you thought. I guess last chapter wasn't too awesome because I didn't really get very many reviews, but that is okay too. I do have a mailing list for this story, so leave your e-mail, with s p a c e s like that because otherwise will cut it off, if you want to be on it. Thanks!

Merry Christmas!