Bad Medicine

Chapter Seven

It was an excellent afternoon for flying. Several of Draco's cronies gathered to watch as he made several passes around Hogwarts and executed several trick moves to appeal to them. He waved nonchalantly. It was good to have followers. He flitted over the lake, staying as close to the water as possible without touching it. Once out of sight of the castle, he circled back and approached it from a seldom-used angle, hugging the ground to avoid detection. He soared upwards along the outer wall of the school and dropped down into a tiny rooftop garden he had discovered on one of his forays. Someone - Professor Sprout or house elves, perhaps - kept it well tended, for the flowers were always well groomed and dead leaves were never in sight, but Draco had never seen anyone there. Today was no exception.

The benefit of the garden was that it was only three corridors and two sets of stairs away from Hermione's secret room. He shouldered his broom and wondered vaguely if she would even show up after yesterday's strange interlude. He had nearly ruined everything.

When he entered the room, he halted in shock and struggled to breathe for a moment. Hermione's schoolgirl clothes were missing. She had gotten a new outfit. It was similar to the black one he had admired when he'd watched her in secret, but this one had red trim that seemed to highlight her visible assets. He had forgotten how revealing the shiny fabric was.

She shrugged. "I swore never to wear the other one in front of you again, so I ordered a new one. I agreed to let you teach me to tango, but first I think I should show you a few more muggle dances."

Draco looked bemused for a moment.

"You can't avoid the dreaded tango forever."

"I shall avoid it as long as possible," she said pertly and started the music. Draco tossed his broom aside and shrugged out of his robes. Hermione stepped close to him. She watched him defiantly as she reached out and took his gloveless hands. He grinned, but allowed her touch without comment.

She demonstrated a few moves while speaking in her teacher-voice. She said she had learned the swing and jitterbug from her parents. Draco was an apt pupil, as usual, and soon they twirled, rotated, and skipped across the floor with seamless motion. Although he didn't have much opportunity to put his hands all over her, Draco enjoyed the session.

It was a sunny day, so they had plenty of light from the ceiling window. They danced for nearly an hour to her varied fast-rhythm songs. Violins signaled a slower song and Hermione rushed to change it. Draco caught her hand.

"Wait," he said. "I like it."

"It's called 'The Best of Times,'" she said. He retained his grip.

"Muggles must dance to this, or it wouldn't be on the phonograph," he insisted.

She sighed. "They do, but it's silly."

"Show me," he demanded.

She rolled her eyes, but stepped close to him. She took his hands and put them on her hips. She placed her own hands on his shoulders, so lightly he barely felt the pressure.

"Now you just kind of rock in place and shift your shoulders and hips," she instructed.

Draco experimented and quickly found a rhythm that matched the music. His eyes narrowed. There had to be more to it than this or she wouldn't have been so skittish about it earlier. Hermione kept her gaze fixed on a point over his shoulder. She rigidly maintained a four-inch gap between them and Draco figured it out. He smiled wickedly and slid his hands around her back. He yanked her against him and felt her breasts mash nicely into his chest. Her eyes flew to his as she gasped.

"Much better," he decided as their feet readjusted. He expected her to shove him away and halt their session, but after a moment of resistance, she sighed deeply and slipped her hands around his neck. Draco nearly tripped when she laid her head upon his chest. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. She had never capitulated so easily. He peered carefully into the shadows of the room, alert for lurking Gryffindors. She could have tired of his game and confided in her lemur friends.

"I can't believe I'm slow dancing with Draco Malfoy," she murmured against his shoulder. "I am certifiably mental."

Her words calmed him somewhat. She sounded sincere. Draco did not even want to consider what his Slytherin friends would say if they could see him wrapped so intimately around Hermione. His father would disown him instantly for even touching a muggleborn. He grinned at the thought. It was rare that he ever defied his father in any way.

And this particular way was turning out to be quite enjoyable.

The song ended far too soon for Draco's taste. Hermione released him and stepped back as if waking from a daze.

"We probably shouldn't do that too often," she said warily. Draco nodded soberly. He already enjoyed touching her far too much.

Although she played a dangerous game, Hermione felt good to be taking action. No longer were all the cards on Draco's side of the table. She ordered several outfits with cold blooded calculation. Leggings with a short, form-fitting pullover tunic; a racerback tank and matching tennis skirt; a halter top that was so revealing she hadn't the guts to wear it when it arrived; a bodysuit with thin straps that she vowed only to wear with a shirt; and a rust-colored silk corset top that made her look like a pirate slut with its wide belt and oversized buckle.

She wore the pirate outfit the next time they met and felt a flash of pure triumph when he actually goggled at her. He tried to speak and had to clear his throat a number of times before the words exited.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"This old thing?" she asked coquettishly, although she drew the line at batting her eyelashes. She also wore the form-fitting black leggings that she knew he liked. She steeled herself and upped the ante by biting her lower lip and tugging at the bodice. His eyes followed her hands as though entranced. "I do hope I don't fall out - it's a bit tighter than I expected." She dropped her hands and took a deep breath that nearly did cause her to pop out of the top. Draco sucked in a breath before he raised a trembling hand and dragged it through his hair, a sure sign that he was flustered.

She looked at him expectantly.

"Tango today?"

"God no!"

She suppressed a smile. Hermione--one. Draco--zip.

They barely got in a few quick non-touching muggle dances before Draco called the session short and bolted, using homework as an excuse. Hermione actually hummed on her way out of the room.

Her vengeance did not stop there. Outside the secret room, she ignored him utterly. She neither looked for him nor at him. She turned a deaf ear to his insults, sidestepped his attempts to trip her, and effortlessly defused his attempts to sabotage her work by thinking five steps ahead of him. It worked beautifully.

"What is going on between you and Malfoy?" Harry asked in the Gryffindor common room one night.

"What do you mean?" she asked placidly.

"He looks at you like he wants to kill you. I mean actually wants to kill you. He used to look at you as though you were an insect, rather like he looks at me, but now he looks as if he could incinerate you on the spot."

Hermione smiled broadly at Harry's words.

"Excellent."

Hopefully in a few more days Draco would put an end to the "dance lessons" once and for all. Then they could get back to their normal lives of Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry. All would be well.