Bad Medicine

Chapter Five

Hermione walked to her secret room as slowly as possible, although it was secret no more. She had anxiously considered not showing up at all, but she wholeheartedly believed Malfoy when he said he would commission a painting of her in her workout clothes. He would probably hang it in the main hall with an irremovable charm.

Draco was waiting for her, as dreaded. His robe and tie were gone and he had unbuttoned several buttons too many on his shirt, exposing more of his chest than she needed to see at this point. His black pants seemed far too tight to allow free movement, but she certainly wasn't going to comment on that.

He seemed excited as a golden retriever puppy.

"I just can't believe you want to do this," she said and cast a sealing spell on the door - something she should have done from the start in order to keep him out! Of all people to stumble upon her--Malfoy!

"What are you wearing?" he asked dubiously as she dropped her robe on top of his.

She had put on a simple t-shirt and grey sweats. Her usual workout clothes were simply too revealing for her to be comfortable around him.

"Clothing," she said shortly and cranked the phonograph machine.

"Yesterday's outfit was infinitely better."

"Thank you for your criticism."

"I think I'll commission that painting so that I can remember it."

"You will have to because I will never be wearing that in your presence again."

They glared at each other.

"Get on with it, Granger," Draco said finally. She put on Bon Jovi since "You Give Love a Bad Name" had been dancing around her head all afternoon. Ever since Draco had whistled the chorus. She skipped that one, however, and went directly to "Runaway." It was faster.

They circled each other like dueling wrestlers when the music began. She watched him carefully as he mimicked her moves and felt a smile curve on her lips. He was a joy to watch, she had to admit. He had excellent timing and balance. He also seemed to know exactly what to do with his hands, unlike many dancers. At that thought, she drew her own hands down her sides and slid them over her hips just to watch him do the same. Her tongue touched suddenly dry lips. Draco watched her and moved forward until he was inches away from her. She wanted to back away, but did not want to look like a coward. She wasn't afraid of him getting close to her! She raised her chin defiantly and held her ground. At that point, he stopped mimicking her and seemed to find his own rhythm. They abandoned all pretense of a teacher/student relationship and simply danced while the music flowed over them.

She played "Bad Medicine" after that and the song seemed to fit Draco to a T. He continued to dance uncomfortably close to her, trying to intimidate her, no doubt. She tried to ignore the way his silver-blonde hair bobbed over his forehead and the way his smoky eyes watched her over lips that curved in an enigmatic smile. She kept her eyes far away from his bare chest and the light beading of sweat there. She tried not to notice the entrancing way he could move his hips...

When it was almost completely dark in the room she gasped in astonishment.

"How long have we been here? Everyone will wonder where I've gone!"

Draco sighed dramatically and put a hand to his forehead. "The burden of being popular."

She scowled at him. "I am not popular."

"So by 'everyone' you mean Potty and the Weasel?"

She gritted her teeth. To think, a moment ago she had practically been lusting after him. He still looked far too sexy for his own good. His hair was tousled and clung to his forehead in places, dark with sweat. She pointed her wand at him.

"Scourgify!"

"Ouch! That was unnecessary!" he complained. "I know how to bathe, you know." His hair was even more mussed now, but clean and dry, and his clothes were spotless. She turned the spell on herself and welcomed the sting of the quick scouring.

"I have no intention of being seen leaving a room with you sweaty and panting," she said practically. "In fact, I have no intention of being seen leaving a room with you at all. Feel free to go."

He took the robe and tie she offered him, but made no move to leave. She sighed in exasperation.

"Is there something else?" she demanded.

"You've sealed the door, remember?" he asked mildly.

She flushed. What was it about him that was making her so forgetful and flighty? She felt like the Patil sisters, who giggled uncontrollably whenever a "cute" boy walked by. She pointed her wand absently at the door and it flew open with a bang.

"Temper, temper," he tsked.

"Just go, Malfoy."

He went.

Four days later, Hermione began to wonder if Draco had forgotten her completely. They had made no plans to meet again and both were busy, Draco with Quidditch and Hermione with homework. She hoped he had no further intent to torment her. He might want to learn to dance for his own perverse amusement, but it was not a game to her.

She thought about their "lessons" far too frequently. Her mind returned again and again to Draco dancing close to her, close enough to touch with a single misstep. She needed to stay away from him. Everything he did served his own selfish purpose and she needed to remember that. She could not allow herself to start thinking of him as a... well, as a decent person. Because he wasn't.

She was reminded of that later in the day when she passed a group of Slytherins on her way to Arithmancy. She picked out Draco's silver-blond head from the crowd instantly but was still surprised when he threw a large book at her feet. She tripped over it and went sprawling. Her Arithmancy book flew out of her hands and she banged her knee on the stone floor.

The Slytherins laughed uproariously.

"I found a book for you, mudblood," Draco said as she glared up at his smirking face. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

He and his giggling followers wandered down the hallway. She retrieved her Arithmancy book and then picked up the one he had thrown at her. It was titled 101 Uses for Muggle Skins. The cover looked suspiciously unlike any leather she had ever seen. She shuddered. He was revolting! Soulless bastard. She cracked open the front cover and a small piece of parchment caught her eye. Written in Draco's small, perfect handwriting was a single word: Noon.

She crumpled it angrily in a fist. He expected her to meet with him after that? Not bloody likely!

She barely made it through her Arithmancy class in an agony of indecision. On the one hand, she wanted to see him to give him a piece of her mind. Was it really necessary for him to be so monstrous at all times? On the other hand, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. Evil or not, she couldn't deny her growing attraction to him. He was too bloody gorgeous to ignore the way she needed to ignore him, and the dancing did not help. It seemed every single move his body made was calculated to achieve maximum seduction, although that was probably just her imagination.

She had to get a handle on her hormones. Just because she hadn't been kissed since the Yule Ball last year... Was she that desperate for affection? It didn't help that kissing Viktor had been like kissing a block of stone--rough and unyielding. He had thrust his tongue into her mouth like a battering ram and that had brought the evening to a swift end. She had pled exhaustion and escaped to her room.

Hermione wondered if kissing Draco would be any different. Knowing him, he would thrust her up against a wall and devour her like a snake swallowing his prey. Instead of repulsing her, the idea caused gooseflesh to break out on her skin and she felt an unwanted flush of desire. She sucked in a steadying breath and swore.

"Note to self," she muttered, "Never, ever entertain the notion of kissing Draco Malfoy again."

The firm admonition made her feel a bit more in control and she touched the evil book he had tossed at her. Uses of muggle skin, indeed! He was utterly vile.

She was late meeting him. He had conjured a wooden chair from somewhere and was sitting on the backrest with his feet on the seat. Bon Jovi was singing "You Give Love a Bad Name" on the phonograph machine. Draco had a Golden Snitch in his hand and was playing with it. He released it and snatched it from the air before it could escape. Hermione cast Silencio on the phono player.

"I don't think you're supposed to take those from the Quidditch field," she said disapprovingly.

"Really? I don't think you're supposed to smuggle muggle phonographs into unused classrooms and dance seductively in your off hours."

She glared at him and slammed the book on the floor next to his chair.

"I only came here to return this monstrous book to you. I shouldn't have even touched the disgusting thing!"

"Yet, I knew you would," he said with a smirk. The Snitch buzzed behind his head and he grabbed it with a quick movement that nearly knocked his chair over backward. The front legs banged the floor as he regained his balance. "After all, it is a book and you know that knowledge is power, however horrible you might find that knowledge to be."

"Some 'knowledge' should never be learned!"

Draco shrugged. "That all depends on the use one puts that knowledge to, don't you think?"

He released the Snitch and it zipped upward in a blur. Draco vaulted into the air and executed a sideways flip that caused his cape to spiral up into a circle as he spun. He hooked the golden ball with his fingertips and landed on his feet next to his chair. She gaped at the acrobatics.

"If you can move like that, why don't you ever beat Harry at Quidditch?"

His eyes flashed silver daggers.

"We are not here to discuss Harry fricking Potter."

She crossed her arms.

"Why are we here?"

"I've decided to teach you to dance," he said.

"You have decided to teach me to dance."

"Yes. I saw you and Captain Krum at the Yule Ball. What you two were doing could scarcely be called dancing. Your waltz is atrocious. Who taught you? Dragonagall?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, and don't call her that."

"Figures. She got the grace of an aged block of hemlock. No wonder she's a spinster." He snorted a laugh. "Who would touch that?"

Hermione's blood was beginning to boil. She sorted through her hexes to find one that would silence him most effectively. He grinned at her.

"Don't get your dander up. I'm trying to help you."

"You are an insufferable ass!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know, but think of the alternative. With these looks, if I were gracious and kind I would never have any peace. Girls would be throwing themselves at me day and night."

Hermione buried her head in her hands. Sometimes there were no words. She needed to leave before she killed him.

"What do you want to learn first? Waltz? Tango? Foxtrot?"

"Don't all of those dances involve touching? Aren't you afraid of mudblood contamination?"

He reached into a pocket of his cape and brought out some white cloth.

"No. I brought gloves."

She had never wanted to hurt him more than she did at that particular moment.

"You cannot begin to imagine how much I loathe you right now," she said flatly.

"Good. Then I don't have to worry about you trying to kiss me or anything disgusting like that while I'm trying to teach you something."

She stalked to the door, intent on escaping his insufferable ego. Surely she hadn't been turned on by the thought of kissing him barely an hour ago. Right now she was more excited by the prospect of burying a shovel in his forehead.

"Occludo!" he said with a flick of his wand.

She wrenched on the door but it was shut fast.

"Open it."

"No."

She spun to face him.

"Do you always have to be such a bastard?"

"Is there another way?"

"For you, I suppose not."

"Then you'll just have to accept it. Now come here." He tucked his wand away and pulled on his gloves.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked without moving.

"It amuses me." He glared at her. "Do I need to come fetch you?"

She sighed. Apparently her torture was not yet complete. She walked forward.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked in the tone of a prisoner approaching the gallows. Draco smiled.