Dead But Not Delirious

"Lumos," I whisper, and a small beam of light springs from my wand. To a normal person such as myself, this would be sufficient illumination to keep oneself from running into other things. But I guess some people are just completely hopeless, because the next thing I know, Malfoy has trodden quite forcefully on my foot. Could he be any clumsier? He's worse than me. And that's saying something. Lord.

"OW! You stepped on my foot, you prick!" I hiss, as pain throbs through my injured appendage. I don't deign to turn around and face Mr. Icicles, and instead keep going forward.

I can practically HEAR Malfoy rolling his eyes. "Sorry, Mudblood," he sneers in the un-sorriest way imaginable. Oh, who needs him? God! But never mind. It's not like I WANT him to apologize to me. As if.

I walk forward, until I find myself plastered against cold stone. Oh, great. Dead end. I can just hear what dear old Drakkie is gonna say.........

"Keep going, stupid Mudblood!" Draco orders impatiently, quite predictably, might I add, as he stumbles right against me. What's up his ass? I hit a wall, all right? I tell him so.

"I would if I could, *Draco*," I spit. "But at the moment, I am sort of UP AGAINST A WALL." Any idiot would realize that. Oh, no, I just felt like stopping, because I WANTED you to bump into me. I should have said that. I love freaking him out. Haha.

"Well, get the hell out of the way, then." He shoves me over. Ow! My shoulder rams roughly into another wall next to me. That hurt. You'll pay for that one, Snotty One.

"God, Granger, here's a DOORKNOB," he sneers contemptuously. I hear a creaky sort of sound, I guess he's turning the knob.........and suddenly, we're both falling helplessly forward. And forward. And forward some more. WHEN WILL IT END?!

We seem to be sliding down, down, down. This lasts for about five minutes, skidding on our asses down about a mile of cold, damp stone. Well, probably only like 50 m. But it feels like a mile. A very chilly, unpleasant mile. I'll wash and wash, but I'll never feel clean, I can tell you that right now. Yuck.

Finally, the madness is over. Or, at least, the slipping-down-a-slimy-tunnel part of the madness. I have a feeling that most of the madness is yet to come. Oh, goody.

I sprawl across the ground after I've slid to a halt. And then my companion sees fit to use me as a landing pad. Oof.

"Get the hell off me, Malfoy!" I groan, as his weight presses me into the disgusting floor. My turn to say that.........isn't it funny how things work out?

He really needs to be a bit quicker about this getting-off-me business. The pressure of a masculine body on top of Hermione is not what she needs right now. Not to mention that another breath of the strange, heady cologne spikes into my nostrils. If I EVER find out what it is, I will personally send the manufacturer a letter of utmost appreciation. Most definitely. If this was anybody but Draco Malfoy lying on top of me, I would definitely go mad with lust. But, unfortunately, it IS Draco Malfoy lying on top of me. And therefore I explode. But not with lust, mind.

"I DON'T HAVE ALL BLOODY DAY! GET THE HELL AWAY BEFORE I HACK OFF YOUR DONG!" I finally scream. He seems to get the picture, and scrambles to remove himself from me. He's taking my threat seriously. Cute. He should. Mad Hermione is Crazy Hermione. Castration is completely within the range of possibility. Chop, chop.

I drag myself to my feet, brushing off as much muck as I can. I "accidentally" fling some onto Malfoy's clean white shirt. Darn. That looks like it'll stain.

"MY SHIRT! THIS HAD DAMN WELL BETTER NOT STAIN!" he hollers, like some sort of deranged housewife. Sorry, Drakkie. Maybe your *husband* can help you with the spot removal.

"Oh, sorry, Draco!" I squeal, leaning over and pulling off the small stringy bit of slime. He gives me a furious look, and opens his mouth to speak, but seems to remember my earlier threat to remove his manhood, and snaps his trap smartly shut. Such power comes with being female. I smile sweetly.

"All better!" I chirp, grabbing his elbow and hauling him to a standing position. "Now, come on, I'm tired, let's see what's down here and then leave."

To my utmost shock, he follows me. We enter a pool of bright, orange torchlight and I take in my surroundings. Unable to contain myself, I give a little shriek.

"What? What is it?" he asks in confusion, staring at me as though I've grown an extra head. Hmm. Have I? I really wouldn't be surprised, considering today's utter weirdness.

"The kitchens!" I cry in rapture, rushing over to the painting on the wall, a still life of a bowl of fruit. He gives me an "I pity you, you crazy bitch" sort of look and walks over to where I am.

This is great. Great, I tell you! I can sneak down here and have chocolate whenever I damn well please! Oh, Dumbledore was SOOO right when he said I'd be delighted! I'm MORE than delighted! I'm ECSTATIC! WOOHOO!!

I reach up and tickle the pear, just like I did last year when I was obsessed with house-elves. Yeah, yeah, I'll admit, I went the *teeny eeny weeniest* bit overboard. IF ONLY THOSE MAGICAL CREATURE RIGHTS PEOPLE WOULD STOP CALLING ME, I could put the entire embarrassing ordeal behind me. But no. They're like some sort of unhinged militia. With "Save the Centaurs" signs instead of guns. Scary.

The painting swings open, and I leap back out of the way.........consequently jumping back into Malfoy. Oops. I scurry away from him before he can make any more kindly remarks.

Before we even step through the threshold, I am assailed by the delicious scents of ginger cookies, baking bread, and a hint of something lemony. Yum. Considering I ate next to nothing at dinner, my stomach clenches when these smells waft to me. I almost dive through the doorway, but compose myself and settle for a few small hops.

"Come on, Malfoy!" I urge, turning around, glaring at him, and yanking him violently into the kitchen by his green-and-silver tie. I am satisfied when he makes a few desperate choking noises. Ha, strangled by his own tie. Well, I won't let him die. *This* time.........oh, come on, how evil do you think I am? A bruise on his neck won't kill him. Yeesh.

The second we enter, no less than twenty skinny elves scuttle over to us. Seemingly unfazed by the fact that it is ten o'clock at night, they all grin toothily at us and we both soon find ourselves in possession of a large tray of sweets each.

"I hate ginger," Malfoy grumbles, tossing the cookies off of his platter and grinding them into crumbs with his left heel. HE DID NOT JUST DO THAT! I feel terrible when I notice the house-elves' eyes watering.

"DRACO!" I holler, smacking him with a napkin. "BE NICE! I'll bet there are plenty of knives in this kitchen.........plenty of *cold, sharp* knives."

He pales, obviously remembering my previous offer of half-off circumcision. Yeah, you better watch your step, Frosty the Snowboy. And I mean it. I'll do it! I will! I'll have to get extremely, extremely drunk first, but I will!

I relish the sight of Draco Malfoy suddenly dropping onto hands and knees, picking up cookie remnants for but a moment before my hunger causes me to turn my attention to tearing through a slice of lemon-cake in a most unladylike manner. Screw ladylike. I'm HUNGRY! No food is safe! Hide your ice cream!

"Where're you going, Mudblood?" Malfoy yells after me, still acting as a human Hoover, as I race through to the back of the kitchen.

I throw open the door and behold the glorious sight within. "THE FREEZER!"

Time to eat myself into oblivion. This has been one bloody hell of a day.