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Mudblood Fever and Lingerie	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 36612 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters within. I am not, nor will not be making any money from 'Mudblood Fever and Lingerie.'

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Tears, Fears, and the Unknown

Hermione sat on her bed, tears spilling out of her eyes, her face buried in her pillow.
“Hermione? Are you in there?” Ginny was knocking at the door, pushing it slowly open to peek inside. “You missed dinner,” She said, moving into the room, and closing the door behind her. “Oh no. What happened?” Ginny’s voice was instantly worried, taking in her crying friend, grabbing a box of tissues, and sitting on her bed, rubbing her back.
“He… He said he didn’t want to sully himself.” Hermione shot angrily, his face playing across her memory. Ginny stared, stunned, her hand frozen in place with a tissue.
“He knows about Ron, and said…” She choked, her words cutting off as a fresh wave of tears rolled down her face. “He said- to run back, and hope- that he would take me back…”
“You asked him for another go, and he insulted you?” Ginny seemed bewildered, unbelieving that anyone could be so thick. Hermione nodded, and wiped her face with the tissue, quickly needing a second, as the tears kept falling.
“I threatened to jinx him…” She said, smiling wanly at her friend, feeling equal parts proud of her small retaliation, and horrible for threatening him, when he looked so confused, and equally hurt by his own words.
“That’s good. Too bad you didn’t actually jinx him.” Ginny mused, handing her friend a wad of tissues.
“He looked too scared. He only said the thing about Ron after I left…” She added, feeling a fresh wave of horror at his words. The worst part had been their accuracy. “I think… I actually hurt his feelings.” The thought of Malfoy actually being insulted was too hard to believe.
“Still, he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have been a bloody gentleman.” Ginny admonished, making a face.
“I spose I was expecting too much from someone like him.” She sighed. Just having her friend there made her feel loads better, knowing not everyone hated her like he did.
“A polite conversation is never too much to expect.” Ginny sounded as though she was quoting someone, and Hermione wondered if it was a professor, or Mrs. Weasley.
“I suppose I’m just as guilty, then, threatening to jinx him when he tried to make up. At least, I think that’s why he followed me…” Hermione was just as confused by his fresh insults as his coming after her.
“Do you think he’ll apologize?” Ginny asked hopefully.
“No. It’s not like him at all.” Hermione replied, wondering if he’d been about to apologize before she threatened to curse him. Had she mucked it up, or had he? Ginny handed her another tissue, and tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Do you want to make up, or let it be?” Ginny asked, trying to tuck a strand of Hermione’s hair behind her ear, unsuccessfully.
“I don’t know. I feel awful for cutting him off like that, but… He deserved it.” Hermione reflected, examining her own feelings.
“Well, think about being the first to apologize, especially if it’ll make you feel better.” Ginny seemed wise as she spoke, and Hermione wondered if she’d be saying the same, if she knew it was Malfoy.
“Thank you, Ginny.” Hermione said, knowing that if anyone apologized, it would have to be her. Malfoy probably wasn’t sorry for what he’d said, only that he’d passed up an opportunity to humiliate her, with permission again.
“Not a problem, ‘Mione.” Ginny replied, and handed her friend more tissues.

Draco followed his classmates down to the small hut near the edge of the forest, wondering what tortures they’d be put through today. Only part of him cared. The other part was trying not to think of… her. He’d kept his eyes off of her during meals, avoided her in hallways, not wanting a reminder of his own worthlessness. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset over pushing away a perfect sexual partner, or how low he’d felt doing it.
He kept his eyes on his friends, and the ground as they made their way to Hagrid’s hut for class, the Gryffindors walking ahead of them, the bushy brown mass of hair threatening to draw his attention.
He thought about apologizing, but she‘d probably hex him for getting close enough to try. She’d made it clear she wanted nothing further to do with him. He’d oblige her, giving her some small regard.
He paid no attention to the class happening around him, taking mechanical care of the monster he was forced to walk on a leash, as though it were a pet.
A small, familiar gasp drew his gaze, pulling him from his quagmire of thoughts, only to be thrown into the waiting jaws of torment.
“Your hand.” Granger said, her eyes caught on the bruised, scabbing fist that clutched the rope. He glanced at the evidence of his breakdown, and flipped his arm, hiding the marks from sight. Her mutation had dragged her away from her friends, regardless of how she pulled at her own rope, it tugged her along, right past where he stood with his seemingly lazy charge. He looked away, staring down at his disgusting, clawed creature, unwilling to throw his usual insults her way. She seemed to struggle an inch closer, staring down at her pale almost-crab, as though it was leading her closer to him on it’s own. He moved away, putting his own critter between them, and tugging at the rope, as though he could encourage it to move away from her. It stayed put as she inched closer, giving his scuttling monster a wide berth.
“Wait!” She hissed under her breath as he stepped away again, trying to keep his snapping ward between them. He looked up meeting her gaze, her brown eyes probing his as she struggled closer, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed her approach.
“Can I help you, Granger?” He asked, keeping his tone flat, hoping she hadn’t come over just to get him back for his comment to her fleeing back.
“Same time, same place.” She muttered, her face just as cool as his expression, giving none of her thoughts away, as her crab dragged her past him, and back into a few Gryffindors.
His chest throbbed as she said it, and he thought again, of not showing up. If she was going to take the opportunity to hex him, he’d rather not chance it. But if she just wanted to throw some insults at him, to repay him for what he’d said, it couldn’t be too bad.
As he made his way back up to the castle with his fellow Slytherins, he still hadn’t made up his mind, eyeing the closet as he passed it to get to his common room. She wasn’t there yet, since they’d been the first down the hallway. He had time to drop his bag off in his dormitory before deciding whether to chance a jinx-happy witch.
He splashed water on his face, trying to calm his spinning mind. His thoughts were swirling too fast for him to make a solid decision. As he dried his face, he wondered how long she would wait. That thought made up his mind. He snuck across the common room, and out into the corridor, avoiding his friends easily. He turned the corner to the closet’s corridor, just in time to see a brown mass of hair disappearing around the far corner. He ran to catch up, his feet pounding noisily on the stone floors. He skidded around the corner, his breath coming in fast pants as he caught up to her.
“Wait!” He gasped, feeling the sprint burning in his legs. “Sorry I’m late.” He said, gasping for air. Hermione eyed him, and looked up and down the hallway, grabbing his wrist, and pulling him into the same classroom she had run from last time.
He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to slow his breathing, the mixture of fear, and running making his heart go double-time. He felt cool fingers on his hand, and looked up, realizing his hand was in hers, and she’d pulled her wand out. He tried to pull it away, his face burning as she inspected his bruised, cracked knuckles.
“What happened?” She asked, sounding worried, and keeping his hand firmly in hers as she prodded it with her wand. “Why didn’t you go to Madam Pomfrey?” He looked guiltily to the floor, still splattered with his dried blood, where he’d hit it repeatedly.
“I did it on purpose.” He admitted, watching as the bruises faded under her wand. Was there anything she couldn’t do?
“On purpose?” She dropped his hand, the bruising gone, and the cuts smaller than they had been.
“Yes. I was feeling… Overwhelmed.” He said, keeping his eyes on the floor, and his tone civil as he remembered the crushing feeling of his own ego collapsing on top of him.
“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes either, but it made his heart leap back into overdrive. He stared at her, not believing that she of all people, was apologizing to him.
“What for?” He asked, lifting his hand to brush his hair back into place.
“For threatening to jinx you.” She said, looking up, and giving him a small smile.
“Don’t.” His voice was too shaky. He took a deep breath, and tried to articulate what he’d wanted to tell her when he pulled her into this classroom.
“I enjoyed the sex,” he started, feeling like it was a dumb place to start. “But I don’t think it can happen again. Too many of my friends, and my whole family, would be disgusted by me if they found out,” he held her steady gaze, hating how her eyebrows were drawing together, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m torn, Granger. It was great, and I can’t stop thinking about it, but… I feel guilty all the time, I don’t feel like I can face my parents, and I know I can’t face what it’s made me feel. I hate myself, Granger.” He added, hoping she would understand. She stood silent, frozen by what he’d said, her wand dangling limply by her side. Her expression was confusion, warring with hurt. She didn’t understand. He sighed, and let his eyes drop to the floor, turning away, reaching for the door. At least he felt a tiny bit better, having said the words aloud.
“I didn’t know…” Hermione’s voice was quiet, stopping his hand on the knob. She said nothing else, and he didn’t move, his guilt, warring with his obsession. Would one more time be okay? Could he stop with just once more?
“Draco…” He turned, his name sounding all-too emotional in her voice. “I’m sorry.” She was staring into his grey eyes, tears sparkling on her lashes. She was crying. For him.
His fingers fell off the knob, and he moved to her, his arms wrapping around her, his heart lurching with warmth. No one had cried for him that he could ever remember. Why was one mudblood more caring than a lifetime of purebloods? He’d been raised to hate them. Raised to believe they were inferior. This witch was ruining everything he thought he knew.
He squeezed her, letting his gratitude seep through his arms, into her, anchoring himself amidst his confusion.
“It’s not you fault,” he heard himself reassure her, thinking of his parents with a new lens. “It’s mine…”
Her arms were around his waist, keeping him steady as he let his worldview shift, the warmth of the girl in his arms making his mind reel, and his body respond, his heart pounding, and his dick twitching. He wasn’t ready for anyone to find out he’d slept with her, but having her here, in his arms, he felt like he could easily do it again, and damn the consequences.
A/N: *cackles evily* How 'bout that suspense? >:)
These chapters looked much longer in my google drive..... o.o

loveinthemadness: I'm happy to know I have an entertained audience! I'm happy you like the angst, as I definitely love writing it. I usually update later at night, since that's when I'm awake, but I think I missed a day earlier this week.... ohwell,StillLotsOfChaptersToGo. Thank you so much for the review!
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- 13
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Mudblood Fever and Lingerie