Bad Medicine

Chapter Twelve

Draco had never been more furious in his life. He stalked into the corridor and stopped, looking at the long row of windows as though he'd never seen them before.

What the hell had happened to him? He actually felt--hurt! In fact, he felt worse than hurt. He felt as if Crabbe had kicked him in the stomach. Several times. It suddenly dawned on him that he had stupidly allowed himself to get close to Granger. He had actually begun to care for the filthy little mudblood.

He laughed shortly, without humor. In a way, he owed the little bitch for the wakeup call. He should thank her for bringing him back to his senses. To echo her words, God, what had he been thinking?"

He congratulated himself on his return to normal and smiled the hateful sneer he knew she despised. Yes, Draco Malfoy was back.

He reached for his wand, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to smash out every window in the corridor. He needed to feel the frigid air on his face.

He gripped his wand, but suddenly it wasn't enough. He needed to hurt someone the way he had been hurt. He needed to hurt her. He took several deep, angry breaths, fighting the urge to go back, half-afraid of what he might do.

He took four determined steps away from the door that suddenly loomed like the gateway to his own personal hell.

Just go, Draco, she had said.

Not Malfoy, but Draco.

"Fuck!" he snarled and turned around.

Draco stalked into the room, expecting Hermione to be tidying up, perhaps humming a happy tune and patting herself on the back. Instead, she was huddled on the floor sobbing hysterically.

He froze.

After a moment, she either heard him, or sensed his presence.

"I thought you were gone," she said in a thick whisper and wiped her eyes with a sleeve.

"Came back for something," he murmured. His white-hot rage had lessened at the unexpected sight of her crying. Draco tried to process the fact. Not just crying, but sobbing like someone had broken her favorite toy. She had yelled at him with purely clinical calculation, as emotionless as a golem. Why, then...? He fingered his wand in puzzlement.

Just go, Draco, she had said. And yet she had never before called him by his first name.

She sniffed loudly, obviously trying to bring herself back under control.

"Get what you came for and feel free to depart," she said haughtily after clearing her throat, but the words were still barely audible.

"I came back to give you a piece of my mind. But now I'm trying to determine why you're upset," he said as though he read aloud from an interesting newspaper article. "You were completely calm while telling me your reasons for never wanting to see my face again. Not a single tear as you listed the many reasons I deserve your everlasting hatred. Every bloody word was calculated to hit me like little poisoned arrows. You succeeded quite nicely in that, as you well know. It was the deluded that got me. Everything else was pretty much dead on true, but to hint that I was delusional--very clever. And to mention that you've been pretending all this time. Truly an excellent performance. Quite according to plan, I would say. So, I have to ask myself. Why is she crying?"

Draco turned around and looked at her through narrowed eyes. Hermione got to her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. He walked over and halted in front of her. She refused to look at him. Her eyes were tightly shut above cheeks wet with tears. He stopped in front of her.

"Look at me, Granger," he snarled. She opened her eyes and stared at him miserably. He nodded with satisfaction. "Just as I thought. I know why you're crying."

She shook her head in denial and started to back away. He followed her like a stalking beast. The rage he had felt in the corridor had changed into a simmering anger. His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Oh yes. I do. You're upset because you lied, aren't you? Tell me that's not the reason. Little Miss Paragon of Gryffindor Virtue lied through her teeth and now it's killing her! Isn't it, Mi? You don't think I'm 'Slytherin scum' at all, do you? I'm sure you think I'm spoiled, bigoted, and self-centered, but I'm starting to bet you rather like me that way."

She continued to shake her head and she glanced at the door as though she would love to bolt, but she had backed herself straight into the wall and Draco persistently advanced on her until she was pressed flat against the stone and his face was a bare inch from hers. She trembled like a terrified kitten and her chest heaved in near panic.

"You don't hate me, either. Do you, Mi?" he asked softly. Her eyes looked huge in the dim light. "Do you?"

"I don't hate you, Draco," she admitted in a whisper and tears trickled down her face. Triumph flooded his senses and he crushed her against the wall roughly, trapping her in place with his hips. His hands gently cupped her face. He leaned down and kissed her.

Hermione would have collapsed if Draco's body hadn't held her in place. Her already overloaded senses couldn't cope with his assault. Her legs felt ineffective. She didn't even try to think; instead she wrapped her arms around his neck in a useless attempt to keep herself from drowning. She was already too far gone for that. His kiss was electrifying, bruising her lips as he tasted her with a nearly savage intensity. She whimpered, but held on tightly when he would have pulled away. She deserved whatever penance he inflicted on her, after what she had done to him. She clung to him and pushed her hands into his hair, marveling at the incredible softness of it.

His kiss changed from punishing to tender. He nibbled at her lips and caressed them with his tongue. Her blood felt like it was on fire. His mouth left hers and slid down her neck, leaving a trail of heat that ignited an inferno in her loins. She needed him to stop. His hands were sliding down her body... under her shirt... hot, so hot on her skin. His mouth was creeping downward past her collarbone. She wondered dimly where her tie had gone... and the buttons on her shirt... God. She tried feebly to speak, but nothing came from her lips but a moan of desire.

Draco pushed away from her suddenly and she nearly reeled at the loss of support. She sagged against the wall as he disentangled her hands from his hair and took several steps backward. He panted and swallowed hard as Hermione struggled to remain standing. Without the wall for stability, she would have collapsed. The air felt cold as ice where his searing body had recently pressed.

He drew in a ragged breath.

"Well, I think we've firmly established that you do not, indeed, hate me," he said lightly. She actually laughed, though the sound bordered on hysteria.

"No, I definitely lied about that," she whispered.

"Why?"

She stared at him. "After what just happened? How can you ask me that? I'm terrified of you!"

He looked thoroughly puzzled. She somehow found the strength to push herself off the wall. She trembled uncontrollably and her teeth began to chatter, but as long as he stayed a safe distance away...

"I'm terrified that everyone can see how I feel when I look at you. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't keep my eyes off of you--surely you've noticed! I watch for you constantly. I can't think at all without thoughts of you intruding. I can't eat--I've taken in my skirts three times, now. I can't sleep without dreaming about you. I feel like an inferi half the time."

He stepped toward her and she backed into the wall again, hard, and lifted a hand to ward him off. He halted. She angrily blinked at the tears that filled her eyes again.

"You stay right there. I won't be responsible for my actions if you touch me again." It sounded like a threat, but it was a plea. If he touched her again she would give herself to him without the slightest fight. She knew it, and all the rationalization in the world wouldn't change the fact. "Don't you see? We can't be together. It just won't work. No matter how much I wish it were otherwise."

"We've been doing fine so far," he said stonily.

"You know that won't last, Draco. Sooner or later we'll be found out. And then what will we do? You have to face reality."

He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. She closed her eyes, remembering the gossamer softness of it. When she opened her eyes again, he walked toward her. The pulse in her throat jumped wildly. She gasped when he raised a hand to touch her face.

"Promise you'll meet me again," he said. She shook her head.

"I can't."

"If you don't promise, I'll kiss you until you do," he warned. She shut her eyes, knowing that would take about half a millisecond.

"I promise," she gritted.

"Good little Gryffindor," he said in a superior tone. She felt his lips touch hers again and his teeth nibbled her lower lip for a moment. She was instantly dizzy.

And then he was gone.