Bad Medicine

Chapter Nine

The cease-fire turned out to be easier than Hermione had imagined. Both of them slipped into the comfortable routine of public hatred, but without the cruelty Draco had exhibited earlier.

He actually tucked a note unobtrusively into her cauldron as they left Potions the next day. It read: Considered putting foul ingredient into your potion while you did Weasel's work for him. Congratulate me on superb self-control.

She had to smile. It was a relief not to constantly watch for Draco's attacks. She rewarded him by treading on his foot as the mob broke up in the hallway. Harry and Ron had already disappeared to go to Divination and Hermione headed for Ancient Runes.

"Careful, Malfoy," she said, "I don't think your ego will fit through that archway."

He sneered at her, but she could see he was pleased that she'd honored her agreement not to ignore him. He didn't even comment.

She also took pity on him when they met after dinner that night. She wore her black exercise top, but threw a shirt over it to cut down on the seduction factor. He seemed to have the same idea, as he appeared wearing a black shirt that barely clung to his muscles when he moved. He still looked like a dark angel, but at least she could look at him without her jaw unhinging.

By unspoken agreement, they danced to muggle songs to avoid touching one another and shattering their tentative peace. Draco, it turned out, had an excellent voice. He sang along to several songs, causing her to shake her head in amazement. She wondered if there was any talent he didn't possess. His rich baritone voice sent a new round of chills up her spine and she sighed inwardly. There was really no way to avoid the torment of attraction.

Against her better judgment, she found herself relaxing her guard during the next week. Draco still verbally assaulted her in and out of class, but the malicious edge was gone and he often kept his commentary to a few terse words. In the library, he would draw stick pictures of her hanging from a tree or getting struck by lightning. The first time he did that, she nearly choked herself to keep from laughing and ended with Ron pounding her on the back while she coughed.

On Sunday afternoon he marched into the room and walked straight to the record pile. He flipped through the stack and chose one of the classical records he had stolen from somewhere in order to teach her to waltz.

"Time to tango," he said.

She started in surprise. He hadn't even come close to touching her since their truce. She had wondered if he was back to his no-touching rule.

"We kicked the pants off of Ravenclaw yesterday in Quidditch. I'm in the mood to celebrate."

The music began and he stepped forward and stopped about a foot from her.

"To begin, put one hand on my shoulder, here, and lean into me. Don't move your feet."

Hermione placed her hand accordingly and leaned. Draco did the same and their bodies came into contact at the chest. Her cheeks burned. She shut her eyes and tried not to breathe. Her cheek pressed against his jaw. He placed his right hand across her back and locked it upon her shoulder blade.

"Now," he murmured, "Put your left arm on my right arm, but don't use any pressure or you'll throw us off balance." She opened her eyes and rested her hand gently on his shoulder. Draco opened his hand and Hermione obediently put her palm in his. His fingers closed gently on hers.

"Lock your shoulders so we move as one."

Hermione swallowed. She was pressed so closely against Draco that she could feel his every subtle motion. Already she could feel the heat beginning to warm her from the inside out.

He instructed her quietly on how to move her feet while guiding her. She felt awkward and clumsy at first, but Draco maintained a calm teaching manner that gradually relaxed her. Once she started to concentrate on the dance itself, she actually enjoyed the lesson.

He stepped back after they had practiced for nearly an hour.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was horrible," Hermione said. "I'll need to practice for a year before I can enjoy it and not feel so clumsy."

"It won't take that long. You're a good dancer. This one just takes some extra concentration. It helps to relax and clear your mind first."

Hermione blinked at him.

"Was that a compliment? Rewind the tape because I'm certain I didn't hear you correctly. Did Draco Malfoy say something nice to a mudblood?"

"Rewind the tape?"

Hermione smiled, knowing he would never acknowledge the remark. "Fine, I'll pretend I didn't hear it." She was in an amazingly good mood and tried not to attribute it to the close contact with Draco.

"One muggle dance and then we'll quit."

He selected "Somebody to Love" by Queen and sang along even though he didn't quite know all the words. Their dance was part swing and part slow dance, which wasn't nearly so frightening since Hermione had been pressed up against him for the past hour. He coaxed her into singing with him and by the end she had a fit of the giggles that left her weak in the knees.

He spun her in a dizzying circle even though the song had ended.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before," he said. "At least, not around me."

"Being around you isn't exactly conducive to hilarity."

"No?"

"Stark terror, perhaps. Insanity, surely."

"Don't forget mindless ecstasy."

"You are so egocentric," she admonished and then chuckled. "It's nice when you're in a good mood. You should try it more often."

"And destroy my brooding, tormented, angst-ridden image? Surely not."

He spun her a few more times for good measure until she was nearly too dizzy to stand. She clung to his shoulders and smiled up into his warm grey eyes. She caught her breath. Since their truce, Draco had become an enigma. She never knew what to expect from him. She almost missed the old Draco and his predictable arrogant spite, because he had been far easier to resist than this relaxed, carefree Draco with his teasing and good humor.

"I should go."

Draco sneered. "Yes, I suppose the other lemurs miss you dreadfully. Probably pondering how they can possibly manage to do their own homework if you don't return soon. I'm sure they'll send a search party out rather than face that horrible unknown."

She nearly laughed, but looked at him seriously instead.

"Why do you hate Harry so much?"

"Why do you like him so much?"

She smiled, bemused. "I love Harry."

Draco released her and stepped back.

"You love him. He's your boyfriend, then?"

"No. I love him, but I'm not in love with him. It's hard enough being his friend. To love him at a deeper level..." She shook her head. "It would be unbearable."

"Why?"

"For one thing, everything Harry feels is intense. If you are his friend, you have his utter friendship and loyalty. You accept without question that he will die for you, if necessary. That can be a very large burden, as you have to be prepared to return the favor. True friendship means giving as completely as you receive."

"Meaning you would be willing to die for Potter?"

"Of course."

Draco looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"That's madness."

"That's love." She shrugged. "If Harry ever gives his heart to a girl--I mean really falls in love, not a silly crush like he had on Cho Chang--she will need to be very strong to handle that intensity. His childhood was so wretched; he never had anyone at all to love. All of that emotion has been bottled up. When Harry falls in love, it will be completely, deeply, and forever, so it needs to be with someone really special." She shut her mouth suddenly, wondering why she was telling Draco Malfoy all this.

Draco sneered as though her words had barely registered.

"Good luck finding someone to fall in love with Potter."

She rose to Harry's defense angrily. "Harry is good and kind and gentle. He's thoughtful and honest and loyal! It would be easy to fall in love with him. Any girl would be lucky to have him!"

"But not you."

Hermione glared at Draco. "I don't know. Now that you've got me thinking about it, maybe I am in love with Harry!"

She spun on a heel and stalked out.