Bad Medicine

Additional disclaimer: The bit of song lyrics at the end are from the song "Bad Medicine" by Jon Bon Jovi, Ritchie Sambora, and Desmond Child from the 1988 album New Jersey released by Mercury Records.

Chapter Thirteen

When Draco exited the room the second time, he was in a far better frame of mind. He found himself whistling one of Hermione's tunes as he strolled.

She didn't hate him! He laughed in amazement at the thought of her response to his kiss. Bloody hell, he had nearly lost all control. The mere remembrance of it sent the heat rising through his blood again and he spun on a heel and detoured to the roof garden. The day was clear, but so ice cold there was a slick layer of frost on the shadowed portions of the floor.

Draco welcomed the chill. He breathed deeply and felt nettles of pain prick his lungs. He expelled a white fog of breath and ran a hand through his hair, only to find it hopelessly tangled. He smiled ruefully at the memory of Hermione's hands in it. He absently cast a spell that put every hair back into place.

He sobered as her words returned to him. He had been furious, but he understood why she had tried to hurt him. She was right. What they were doing was risky for both of them. He still found it hard to believe he had gotten so involved. It had started as a simple amusement. He had only planned to toy with the mudblood. He winced. It was difficult for him to even think of her the way he had before.

He had gradually accepted his attraction to her as a mere physical response, a sensual animal instinct. But it had grown into something more than physical, something he was not prepared to accept. Hearing her sobs earlier had made him want to pick her up and hold her, which amazed him. He'd heard females cry before and it had always annoyed him. He knew they used tears as a weapon. Hermione's had been different; she had never intended him to see them.

He sighed explosively and watched his breath cloud slowly dissipate. He should try to consider what would happen if they were seen together. What would he do? He laughed bitterly, knowing Hermione had been right. He would most likely rip her to shreds rather than admit he was in...volved with a muggleborn.

He was suddenly disgusted with himself at the thought and started back inside. Knowing that she would stand up in her brave little Gryffindor manner and admit to a relationship with him only made him feel that much worse.

He scowled as he walked down the stairs. Where was his self-control? She was just a girl. He didn't need her. She was right. It would never work. He resolved to stay away from her. She would understand.

Hermione was walking to the Gryffindor common room from the library when a hand reached out from the shadows and yanked her behind a suit of armor. She reached for her wand to teach her attacker a lesson, but both her wrists were held against the wall by strong hands. She suddenly recognized Draco's scent and sagged in relief. He always smelled clean and somewhat spicy, like fresh basil and summertime.

"Draco," she breathed. "It's been five days. I thought you didn't want to see me any more."

He gripped her wrists more tightly.

"I didn't. I tried to stay away from you, but after Potions today..."

She chuckled throatily. "That was pure evil," she admitted. "I am deeply ashamed of myself."

"Deeply," he repeated dubiously.

"You were ignoring me," she explained.

"It was your idea."

"I hated every minute of it."

"Me too," he said and captured her lips with his.

Thus ended their five day trial separation, but things grew far more complicated thereafter.

Hermione couldn't believe she was sneaking out after hours without Harry and Ron. She also couldn't believe she had "borrowed" the Marauder's Map from Harry without his knowledge. She had nearly taken his invisibility cloak, but couldn't quite bring herself to take something so personal. She would never forgive herself if it were confiscated by her being caught.

She stepped out of the painting door, glanced around furtively, and tapped the map with her wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she whispered, noting that in this instance it was absolutely true.

"I'll say," admonished the Fat Lady. Hermione wondered if the painting would feel obligated to report her.

"I'm meeting a boy," she admitted. The Fat Lady gasped happily and clapped hands to her cheeks.

"I remember! Your secret love," she breathed. "Well, run along then and be careful of Peeves. Mum's the word!"

Hermione smiled gratefully, checked the map, and ran.

Even with the map, Hermione had a hard time avoiding Filch, his annoying cat, Peeves, and other wandering teachers on her way to meet Draco. She began to wonder if any of the adults ever went to bed!

Draco waited for her in the corridor with the windows. It looked amazing by night when the moonlight made gothic patches of bluish light on the floor and highlighted the statues in their niches. She paused for a moment and studied him as he gazed out at the lake. He looked like a beautiful statue himself as he leaned casually against the window embrasure. He had taken off his black robe and it dangled from one hand onto the floor in a dark pool. He was dressed in all black tonight, the better for sneaking, no doubt, though he would vehemently swear that Malfoys did not sneak. The shirt was vaguely pirate-like, open at the neck. Its billowing sleeves gathered at the cuffs with a long row of silver buttons. His black pants were tight, as usual, and hugged his buttocks and legs to maximum effect. He wore black boots that he had spelled in order to make no noise when he walked. His hair shone silver in the moonlight.

She sighed and almost wished he weren't so heartbreakingly gorgeous.

He must have heard the sigh, for he turned and grinned wickedly.

"Naughty little Gryffindor, sneaking about after hours?" he asked and clucked his tongue as though it weren't his idea to begin with. "I'll have to think of a suitable punishment for you."

She walked into his arms with hopeless abandon. She smiled.

"How about kissing me to death?"

"That works for me," he breathed and set to it.

Pansy Parkinson watched through narrowed eyes as Draco entered the Slytherin common room at a ridiculous hour of the morning. It was obvious he'd been out all night and it was equally obvious he'd been with someone, given the mangled state of his hair and the fact that he was whistling softly. Draco Malfoy never whistled. Pansy nearly stood and confronted him, but she knew he would deftly turn the tables on her and make her begin to doubt her own eyes. He was an accomplished liar. She began to tally up all of his strange disappearances over the past couple of months; his excuses; his casual explanations; his odd behavior. She found it difficult to breathe through the rage that gripped her.

He didn't notice her sitting in the shadows near the banked fire and walked on to his room. Before he disappeared, she heard a snatch of song.

"...your love is like bad medicine..."

She didn't recognize it, but the words were apt.