Bad Medicine

Chapter Eight

Draco slammed into the room. Hermione was sitting in his chair toying with her wand. He glared at her and a muscle in his jaw worked.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he demanded. She looked at him with an innocent expression.

"What do you mean?"

"You know precisely what I mean." He flung out a hand. "Down there, you act like I don't even exist and up here you... you..."

She stood up so he would not shout down at her, since he was obviously in the mood for a fight.

"I what? You can't really be upset that I ignore you. Of course I ignore you! I can't very well rush up and give you a hug when I see you in Potions, now can I? You certainly haven't curbed your public malice toward me. What do you expect me to do?"

He glared at her. "I don't know, but in this room you act sickeningly sweet and dress like a--can that skirt get any shorter?"

She looked down at her white tennis skirt speculatively. "I don't know. Let me see." She yanked at it experimentally and it rose on her thighs another inch. "Yes. A bit shorter, actually."

Draco blanched. He took in the rest of her outfit and she felt the first hint of trepidation when his eyes glowed like silver flame. Perhaps she had gone overboard with the dark blue halter-of-little-coverage and the sheer aqua blouse. She suddenly felt far too uncovered.

She tried to divert his attention. "You know, you can call a halt to these meetings at any time. We can stop pretending to be pleasant and go back to despising one another."

"Pretending to be pleasant. Is that what you've been doing?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing? Or is the pretense the vicious slurs you throw at me? Which is it, Malfoy? Are you pretending to like me, pretending to hate me or is your life such a travesty that everything you do is fake?"

His lips thinned. "You don't know anything about my life."

"And what do you know about mine? We know nothing about each other and we have nothing at all in common! What are we even doing here?"

They glared at each other like rival cats.

"You would love for me to walk out of here and never come back, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I would," she breathed, although her heart lurched and she suddenly knew it wasn't true. His eyes narrowed and he walked around her slowly, much like he did the first day she discovered him here. He stopped behind her, so close she could feel her hair brush against his chest when he moved. She set her jaw and walked firmly away from him. She couldn't think clearly when he was too near.

She at him over her shoulder.

"Look, we've got to stop meeting like this. You know it. We are going to kill each other if we don't."

"I don't want to kill you."

"Really? Then what was that little stunt you pulled in Potions on Monday? You nearly blew up the classroom by tossing Ashwinder powder into my cauldron. You're bloody lucky I saw you or Snape would have expelled us both."

"I made sure you saw me."

"It doesn't matter. I don't understand why you insist we continue this charade! We despise each other, so let's just leave it at that and pretend none of this ever happened."

"You want to forget? All of it?"

"Yes!" she cried truthfully. If she could rip the memory from her own mind, she would. She did not want to remember the times Draco had been so... unDracolike. There had been moments when she had glimpsed something beyond the hateful façade he always hid behind.

"Well, I don't." His voice was adamant.

She turned around to look at him questioningly. "Why not?"

He sprawled in the chair she had vacated with a sigh. "Look, Granger, I'll be honest with you."

That should be a switch, she thought, but bit the words back before she could speak them. He glared as if she had said them aloud.

"I... like dancing with you." He looked as though the words were being dragged from him by force. She stared at him, knowing that such an admission likely cost him a few acres of his reserved property in hell. "I look forward to it almost as much as Quidditch. More, if we're playing Gryffindor. I know you hate it and you hate me and every moment you spend with me is sheer torture, so I'll make a bargain with you."

She narrowed her eyes, thinking that bargains with the devil were never a good idea, but again she kept silent and let him speak.

"I will stop tormenting you outside this room. No more pranks, no more sabotage, no more tricks and traps."

"No more name calling?" she asked dryly.

"Well, I can't go that far or the other Slytherins would think I'd gone mental and owl my father. I'd be committed to St. Mungos."

"All right. Name calling - in, evil actions - out. What do you expect me to do?"

"Stop ignoring me, for one. I'd rather you hate me than pretend I don't exist."

Her lips twisted.

"God forbid anyone ignore a Malfoy."

"Quite right."

"Anything else?"

His silver eyes raked over her and she felt sure he was going to comment on her campaign of torture by apparel.

"No."

"Then we have a truce."

"A truce."