Bad Medicine

Additional disclaimer: Song lyrics in chapter belong to Jon Bon Jovi from the song "You Give Love a Bad Name" written by Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora and Desmond Child from the 1986 album Slippery When Wet released by Mercury Records.

Chapter Two

He had completely forgotten about Potions class. Not the class itself, of course, just the fact that Hermione Granger sat directly across the aisle from him. He had noticed this fact with annoyance on several occasions, namely whenever her potions sparkled just a bit more brightly than his, or shone with more perfect effervescence, which was usually. But he had never, ever before noticed that when she sat down, her school robes gaped open to reveal the pleated black skirt that nearly covered her knees, except when she crossed her legs in that particular way, and caused the skirt to slide dangerously up her thigh and expose far more flesh than he would have expected to see from the bookish Miss Granger.

Professor Snape, thank God, was his usual snakelike bundle of joy and he was in the mood to stride around the room and bang his wand on various cauldrons while hissing threats and deducting points from the Gryffindors, so Draco was gratefully distracted from his unworthy neighbor. The assigned potion was devilishly tricky, also, so Draco concentrated with all his being on measuring exactly the correct amount of powered horklump into his cauldron with the tiny silver spoon. All was going quite well until Weasley's pickled dugbog slipped through his fingers and onto the floor near Draco's feet.

Hermione sighed and reached for it. Draco's eyes met hers for one startled moment and he instinctively kicked the dugbog toward the front of the room. He did not want her to touch him in any fashion, even accidentally. She glared at him as she got out of her seat.

"You're an ass, Malfoy," she hissed. He grinned lazily and watched as she quickly snatched up the dugbog.

"Why are you out of your seat, Miss Granger?" Snape asked nastily.

"I dropped--"she began.

"I think she was spying on Blaise's potion, Professor," Draco volunteered casually.

Hermione spun and gave him such a venomous look that Draco nearly laughed aloud. She wasn't nearly so pretty when she looked as if she could flay the skin from his bones with her bare hands.

"Really? Twenty points from Gryffindor. Stay in your seat, Miss Granger."

Hermione threw herself into her seat and gave the dugbog back to Ron, who looked at her in apology. Her jaw was set and her lips were nearly white. She threw a last scathing glare at Draco, who smirked. He had always enjoyed tormenting Granger, but now it was personal. He needed to get even with her for causing him to think of her in that way. Her rage was like a balm to his soul and he reveled in the routine sameness of it. He hated her; she hated him. All was well.

She flounced out of the room after class and the other two lemurs followed her. Both of them shot angry glares in Draco's direction, but as usual they were both too spineless to start anything in Snape's presence. Draco left at his leisure.

Afternoon once again found him sitting in the Slytherin common room watching Crabbe and Goyle play a gruelingly dull game of knucklebones. They didn't even bother to keep score because neither of them was particularly good with numbers. Pansy Parkinson had snuggled under Draco's arm and dozed off. Warrington and Montague were practicing some spell or other with their wands, which kept giving off an irritating pinkish glow.

Draco found his mind wandering. He wondered if the view of the lake from the deserted corridor was any better today. Perhaps the rain had lessened. He absently wiped the sweat from his palms and shifted the sleeping Pansy aside. His interest was purely scenic. He had no intention of looking into any dark rooms, occupied or otherwise. In fact, the long corridor would be the perfect place to practice some spells without interruption. He'd been trying to extend the range of his flame spell. So far he could only ignite things from a three-foot distance. He would need to extend that to at least ten or twelve feet in order to use it on Potter or Weasley. Or Granger.

In short order, he found himself walking the corridor. He made himself look out the window to find the view fairly identical to the previous day. Wet and gloomy. He made a few cursory passes with the flame spell, muttering the spell under his breath to make as little sound as possible. His heart simply wasn't in it and he gave it up shortly. Before he could stop himself, he had pressed his ear to the door. The door he swore he would not open under any circumstances. He heard nothing and sighed. It was a sigh of relief, he told himself quickly. The room was empty. In fact, would it not be better to practice his spells inside, where no one would interrupt him?

So deciding, he opened the door and stepped inside. After a breathless moment, he realized the room really was deserted. He walked inside and cast a Lumos. An old phonograph stood on a rickety table in one corner. Next to it was the box Hermione had brought in the previous day. It was full of large squares. He lifted one and a black disc slid halfway from the covering. Phono disks, he figured. He looked at the picture on the front and found it extraordinarily bizarre. There was a photo of four men with a huge amount of curly hair, but none of them moved. They seemed frozen.

Draco examined a few others. None of the photos moved at all and the names on the albums were unfamiliar. Pat Benatar. Billy Idol. U2. Bon Jovi. He dropped the strange phonographs and turned to leave, but motion caught his attention. The door was opening! He doused his wand and crept quickly toward a corner of the room, away from the phono player.

Hermione walked purposefully into the light. Her wand was lit, but thankfully it was a dim glow and she paid no attention to anything but the phono player. She plucked a black disc from the pile Draco had examined and placed one on the machine. Then she tucked away her wand and removed her robes. She folded them and put them on the floor next to the machine. She wore the same black leggings as yesterday with a white shirt. Draco held his breath as she peeled the shirt off and tossed it on her robe. No tie today, he noticed, but the form fitting top was in place.

She kicked off her shoes and began to crank the machine. When it spun vigorously, she placed the needle. After a scratchy moment, loud, squealing noise came from the thing, nearly causing Draco to cringe. Hermione walked to the center of the dimly lit square again. Once more, she began to dance. This time, Draco could actually make out words and he found himself tapping a toe to the pervasive beat.

Shot through the heart

And you're to blame

You give love

A bad name

Hermione sang along and he was pleased to note that she had a simply dreadful voice. Her dancing, however, was spellbinding. Her hair was a spinning curtain today and she looked like a lioness on the prowl. At one point she threw her head back and her hands caressed her hips and trailed up higher and higher to rest near her breasts before she flung her head down and arms out. Draco fairly gaped.

A school boy's dream

You act so shy

Your very first kiss

Was your first kiss goodbye

Draco's brow raised at the lyrics. He could picture her kissing him goodbye. Right before she hit him with an Avada Kedavra. He smiled and watched. To his glee, she played the song again, as he was rather beginning to like it. A couple of other songs followed and she danced until she was dripping with sweat. She gathered up her things and threw her robe over all. She went out without ceremony and Draco figured she was on her way to slip into a hot bath. The idea made him swallow hard and he realized he didn't really need that image to haunt him all night long.