Divine Humiliation

Divine Humiliation

"You did WHAT!" Ginny exclaimed, her face turning redder than her hair, which was absolutely astonishing to see.

Hermione blinked, all innocence and guileless. "I said I gave Malfoy a spell that would allow anyone to see through his robes." She turned her eyes over at Lavender and Parvarti. "You were there, weren't you?"

"Yessss," hissed Lavender, her eyes suspiciously bright. "We saw it."

"Well, we didn't see it, if you know what I'm saying," Parvarti said with a large smile and a wink at Ginny. "But we almost did."

Hermione made a face. "That's disgusting, Parvarti!"

"Oh come on, like you're not thinking of... Malfoy's it."

"Or Malfoy in his boxer shorts. Now there's a sight for sore eyes." Lavender sighed, and fanned herself with her fingers. "Sinfully delicious. I could just lick--"

"For Merlin's sake, we have a minor!" Hermione pointed at Ginny, who was muttering incoherencies beneath her breath. "And no, for your information, I'm not thinking of anything related to Malfoy. I have my dignity, you know."

"He's worth my dignity anytime," Lavender snickered.

"I need to... to sit down... sit... chair..." Ginny laid her hands behind her, and once she felt a chair slid on it. She turned her red face to Hermione and took deep, calming breaths. "I will never forgive you," she started, her eyes ablaze. "You... you cheater! You... you--"

"Calm down, would you?" Hermione said. The look on her friend's face worried her: it was a look of pure loathing, the look she only saw on Malfoy's. "It wasn't like I wanted to see-- well, I just wanted revenge, that's all!"

"I hate you!" Ginny cried, standing up and pointing at her. "You deprived me of an absolutely divine scene! You deprived me of a topic I could relay to my children's children! I mean... Malfoy in... in... you just wanted to keep him for yourself, didn't you? Selfish!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's why I let twenty other people see him in his naked glory."

Ginny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"It wasn't like he looked good or something! Honestly, you didn't miss anything!" she appeased.

Lavender and Parvarti shot her dirty looks, acting like they were personally offended by what she said. "Liar," seethed Parvarti.

"Don't believe her, Ginny - you missed a lot," Lavender said.

"Thank you very much for the support," snapped Hermione.

"I will never forgive you, Hermione Granger," Ginny huffed, sitting again. "EVER!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting, Virginia Weasley?" Hermione asked dryly, rubbing her temples in irritation. Great. Now she was developing a migraine because of Malfoy. Of all the mundane things to fight about, he must be the worst of them all!

The two engaged in a staring contest that Ginny later ended with an abrupt, "Fine!" She sniffed. "At least have the decency to tell me what he looked like."

Lavender grinned wickedly. "Why don't I just show you?"

Hermione's jaw dropped as Lavender pulled out a small frame from her bag. She took a brief glance at it, and then stepped away, repulsed. "Oh for the love of sanity, LAVENDER!"

"You took a picture?" Ginny whispered, all starry eyed as she scrambled to where the other two girls were.

Lavender looked at Parvarti and grinned. "Yup."

"It pays well to always bring along a camera," Parvarti added. "That Creevey creep taught me that."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "I love you guys! Group hug!"

And the three squealed, huddled, and hugged each other.

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "I have better things to do than ogle an ogre!" She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the girls' bathroom just as Ginny let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

This is so stupid, she thought, storming over to the Great Hall. So she allowed some seventh year students see Malfoy in his underwear. Big deal! What's so wonderful about that? She threw a furious look at some third year Hufflepuffs giggling and saying the name 'Malfoy' over and over again. Another group of fifth year Ravenclaws got the same reaction from her when she heard the words 'hot' and 'clowns' from them. She wondered how on earth the news got to them in the first place.

This was not what she intended to happen, damn it! She wanted to humiliate Malfoy, not turn him into a bloody sex object!

She dumped her bag on the Gryffindor table, and sat herself. The Great Hall was almost deserted, with only a few groups of people from the different houses here and there. Hermione looked around her, and saw that there was no one she knew quite well. Pursing her lips she grabbed her Potions book and opened it on Chapter Fourteen: Feet of Ferrets and Hand of Glory.

Great. Even the freakin' chapter was about Malfoy.

"Waryurdingmiyoni?"

She looked up, and screamed when saw a gigantic talking bouquet of flowers appear right next to her out of nowhere.

"Relax, Hermione, it's just me!" Harry emerged from behind the bouquet and grinned. "Gave you quite a scare, huh?"

She could only nod.

He dropped the flowers on the floor and sat right next to her. "You're reading Potions?" he said. "Aren't we done with that disgusting subject?"

Hermione closed her book with a resigned sigh. "I had to do something to keep me from flinging myself off of Astronomy Tower," she answered. She looked around her and whispered conspiratorially, "These people are insane, Harry. Insane."

"Tell me about it," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He pointed at the bouquet. "Look what Zabini gave me."

"Blaise gave it to you?" Hermione asked, stifling her laughter as she glanced at the ridiculous object in question.

Harry looked annoyed at her reaction. "I just said it, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, placing a hand over his shoulder. She glanced at the bouquet of red, orange, and yellow roses again. "But... um, beautiful as the flowers are, I wonder why you have to bring it with you. I mean, couldn't you just leave it in the common room?"

Harry looked absolutely crestfallen. "Watch." He stood up, and just as he was about three meters away from the bouquet the flowers screamed:

Oh Harry (Harry)

I am but a fool

Darling I love you

Though you treat me cruel

You hurt me

And you make me cry

But if you leave me

I will surely die--

Hermione had to cover her ears to protect her eardrums from the belching flowers. "What the hell, Harry!" she demanded.

The song stopped as soon as she felt Harry sit beside her again. "It's horrible," Harry told her, cradling his head on his hands. "I have to bring it with me everywhere I go, or it'll sing like that... it's not even light! It weighs a ton, the blasted thing!"

She patted his hand. "I'm sorry," she sympathized again.

Then Harry straightened up. "I know!" he said. He turned bright eyes at her. "Maybe that thing's charmed. If it is, you can remove the spell, can you? For the sake of my sanity?"

Hermione scrutinized the flowers. "Oh Harry, these flowers are not charmed at all! These are Rousing Roses."

Harry regarded her with a blank look.

"Don't you remember? Rousing Roses are seasonal flowers that would really give loud wails when their receiver leaves them alone. We discussed these last year!"

Still with the blank look.

Hermione sighed, defeated.

"Can I burn the damned thing?" Harry asked eagerly.

She resisted the urge to smack him at the back of his head. "Burning them will cause them to multiply. But don't worry. They die really quickly, and they'll probably be dead by this afternoon."

"This afternoon? Bloody Hell! I have dance practice this morning!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to bring it with you."

Harry's eyes blazed. "I'm going to kill Blaise," he said, frothing in the mouth. "Right after I stuff this bouquet inside every hole I could find on her."

"Don't be so rash. You've got to admit, the girl's got good intentions," she said. "Can't say the same about her taste, though."

"Good intentions or not, she's dead. Oh, don't worry, Hermione," he said to her horrified expression. "You won't be there to see it, anyway."

She frowned. "Why not? I have dance practice too, remember?"

"Not today you don't," Harry said, standing up. "Snape dropped by and asked you and Ron to go to the Potions classroom immediately."

"When?"

Harry consulted his watch, and then blanched. "Um... let's just say you should've been there about twenty minutes ago."

Hermione stood abruptly and shoved her book inside her bag. "Why didn't you say so?" she demanded angrily, and rushed out of the Great Hall.

By the time she got to the Potions classroom, Hermione had all but hexed every single student having ridiculous conversations about 'hot', 'Malfoy' and 'clowns.' Actually, Harry's news relieved her a bit, because she really didn't want to see the blonde idiot. Her dreams of a Malfoy-free afternoon were shattered, though, when the idiot himself caught her attention as she entered the room. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

The blonde git just shrugged.

"Finally," Parkinson said, looking bored out of her non-existent wits. "Her highness has arrived."

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, looking relieved to see her. Indeed, he voiced that aloud. "Am I relieved to see you!"

"What are they doing in here?" she asked, jabbing her finger in the direction of the Slytherins. She deposited her things on the chair behind Parkinson's and in front of Ron's. She would've scooted away from the girl but that chair was the last available left. The chair suited her fine, just as long as it was two chairs away from Malfoy (who was seated at the very front).

Ron shrugged. "It was really weird, Snape just dropped by--"

"--that's Professor Snape to you, Weasel--"

"--AND told me he wanted to see us this morning. He said he's even excused us from dance rehearsals."

Hermione sat on her chair, and frowned. "What could Snape possibly want with us?" She couldn't help but be nervous at the possibilities.

"I don't know, but I reckon it's something bad. He was smiling too much when he talked to me." Ron shivered. "There's a sight I never want to see ever again."

"Well," she retorted, straightening herself. "It can't be that bad if they're here. Where is Snape, anyway?" She looked around.

"He stepped outside," Ron answered.

"Got tired of waiting for her royal Mudblood-ness," Parkinson chimed in, while studying her nails.

"Shut up!" Ron told her, his face reddening.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" she asked shrilly.

While the two were busy bickering and shouting over their heads, Hermione noticed that Malfoy was busy folding a piece of paper. He gave it a few twists and tugs - a fold here, a slip there - and the flat sheet turned into a crane. A paper crane! She watched as he placed it on his palms and blew it away... towards Parkinson, she noted with a frown. The girl turned just in time to accept the paper crane with no small amount of glee. Hermione turned her attention elsewhere so that no one would say that she was too... attentive of things that didn't concern her, but she couldn't help but notice that Parkinson savagely crumpled the paper crane and then handed it to her. "It's for you," she said, tossing her hair and Hermione a glare.

"Huh?" Smart, Hermione. Very, very smart.

The Slytherin girl threw the paper at her with ferocious force, and Hermione lifted her hands just in time to prevent it from hitting her face.

She scrutinized the note in her palm, and glanced at Malfoy - only to find him looking at her with his chin resting on his fist. He mimicked the action of writing on air, and then pointed at the letter. She got the message. She read the note:

- I feel it as an obligation to report to you the progress of my scheme. Hermione, dear sweet Hermione... the fun is just beginning. -

She looked at him, and pursed her lips, resisting the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. She grabbed her quill and wrote down:

- I'm not intimidated, you little geezer. Shove this up your arse and put my words in your swelling head: Bring. It. On. -

Hermione crumpled the note and tossed it to him. She got pure, unadulterated pleasure when it smacked him right at the forehead.

He opened the note, raised his eyebrows, and actually laughed. Malfoy wrote down something, then folded the paper into two, then four, and threw it at her. When she read the note:

- A little more careful with your metaphors and your language, Hermione. I am wounded by them. -

- Does little Drakie want a cutie little clown to come kiss his little wound? -

- Does little Her-ma-yo-ney want to see where my little wound is so she could make it all better? -

- You disgust me, Malfoy. Anyway, you didn't really report your progress to me. Ha, ha, idiot. -

- Oh, it's on the way, literally and figuratively. You wouldn't even know what hit you. -

Hermione tossed her reply one last time, and then gave a horrified gasp - she just saw Snape slink behind Malfoy, and he was the one who caught her note.

Malfoy looked highly amused.

Slimy bastard! she thought, though she couldn't decide yet which Slytherin deserved it.

"What's this?" Snape asked, waving the paper around. He straightened the note and read aloud: "'you are, quite simply, the most egoistic, immature, and pathetic wizard to ever set foot on this school.' My, my, Miss Granger... I applaud your choice of endearment to Mr. Malfoy."

Parkinson looked at her with the sourest expression her face could muster. Hermione cradled her head in her hands, feeling the temperature of her skin rise above its boiling point. She felt a hand over her shoulder and gave Ron a small smile, grateful that he was there.

"Very well," Snape began, sitting on his desk. "The reason I called the four of you is because I felt the need to relay to you the results of the last Potions exam. This exam, I believe, determined who our Valedictorian is, and just who is our second best."

At this, Hermione straightened on her seat, and shot the back of Malfoy's head with a haughty look. Ooh, second best. Malfoy, Snape's talking about you, she thought. Then, the most incredible thing happened: he actually turned and winked at her!

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, turning his attention to the blonde geezer, "please accept my sincerest congratulations. You got an excellent mark of 98.5 %."

Malfoy shrugged, as if it didn't surprise him at all that he got such a high grade. Or low grade, she mused, smiling. This means I got a higher grade than--

"Miss Granger," Snape said, his expression becoming blander. "98.5%."

Hermione blinked. She got the same grade the Malfoy did? Bloody hell, that never happened before!

At least the blonde snot looked as surprised as she was.

"Bloody brilliant, Hermione!" Ron said, clapping her at the back hard enough to make her cough out her lungs. "Err- sorry."

Parkinson raised her hand. "Sir, why am I here?"

The absurdity of the question sent Ron guffawing loudly.

Snape regarded him with a foul look. "The same reason Mr. Weasley is."

That sure did shut Ron up.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr. Weasley, in all my years of teaching this subject I've never, fortunately, met more idiotic students such as yourselves." Snape paused. "Except for Mr. Longbottom, that is."

Parkinson gave a dignified shriek. Ron murmured obscenities beneath his breath. Malfoy looked like a blonde buffoon and Hermione felt sympathy for her friend (though she couldn't help but agree with Snape).

"However," he continued, standing up. "The results of the last exam proved me wrong. You two perfected the exam, and I couldn't be more... shall we say, perplexed."

Hermione's brain ceased functioning.

"Perfected!" shouted the blonde prick.

"Perfected?" quivered Pansy-the-cow.

"Perfected?" whispered her-ex-friend-aka-one-of-the-two-who-outsmarted-her.

"Perfected," confirmed Snape. He shook his head. "Truly perplexing."

A few moments passed with the classroom engulfed in otherworldly silence. Then, the shouts of a dying cow and a triumphant king permeated the stillness and broke the peace that reigned supreme only moments ago.

Pansy stood shouting at the top of her lungs. Ron stood shouting at the top of his lungs. The two started jumping up and down, and even embraced each other in glee, then separated before jumping up and down again.

Hermione's mind was still gloriously blank.

"Wait 'til Harry hears this!" Ron said, and then ran outside.

"Wait 'til Blaise hears this!" Pansy said, and then ran outside.

"Perfected?" repeated the blonde pig. "Sir, there must be some mistake--"

Snape sent him a withering glare. "There isn't. The papers and quills were, as always, guarded against cheating of all known kinds. Absurd as the idea is, they actually perfected the exam." He waved his hand, as if dismissing the notion. "But enough of the oddities of this day. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, another reason why you are called to my presence is because, as I told you before, we now have the knowledge of who our valedictorian is... or should I say, who our valedictorians are."

"WHAT!" shouted Hermione and the blonde ass.

Snape smiled. A terrifying sight to behold, but she endured it like any martyr would. "For the first time in the history of Hogwarts, two students garnered the same general weighted average, and--"

"How could that be?" Hermione said, rising to her feet. "He's been second to me in all our years in Hogwarts--"

"You're forgetting sixth year, Her-ma-yo-ney," said the blonde idiot with a perfectly annoying and perfectly revolting and perfectly annoying smile.

"Actually," Snape said in a tolerating tone, "the computation was only dependent on seventh year grades, and from all of the subjects you two were evenly scored."

"IMPOSSIBLE!" she cried, pounding her fist on her desk. At this point, there was only one word in her vocabulary and that was: "Impossible!"

The blonde wanker stood and walked languidly towards her. "Do forgive her temper, professor," he drawled. "Miss Granger's rather... jumpy lately." He poked her on the shoulder and she jumped. "See?"

"I do," Snape answered silkily. "Well, there's nothing more I could tell you except how proud Professor McGonagall and I are of both of you, and that you better prepare your valedictory addresses. You'll be delivering them at the same time."

"Impossible!" said Hermione, turning to the blonde twat. "You egoistical smarmy pathetic annoying infuriating sneering maddening atrocious terrible despicable blonde prick of a man!" She took a deep breath, marveling at how her vocabulary list quickly swelled with adjectives she could use on him.

"Such beautiful poetry," sniggered the bastard, pretending to wipe away tears from his eyes. "I am touched."

"Yes. Lovely," Snape drawled. "If I may leave you two lovebirds alone..." He slinked out of the room.

"You DID something!" she accused, jabbing Malfoy with her finger. "You arrogant, horrible little twit! Everybody knows I'm the most intelligent - therefore, deserving - of that title! Oh, I'm going to murder you--"

"Look, ghastly girl," he retorted. "I do NOT cheat, and contrary to your stuck-up belief you're not the most intelligent student in Hogwarts." He smiled, which further incensed her. "We are."

Hermione stared at him, feeling her skin grow hotter with every second that passed. "You're dead, Malfoy," she seethed, clenching her fists at her sides. "No more stupid games."

He actually had the grace to look devastated! "Aww, Granger! I haven't even paid you back--"

She turned her head away, grabbed her bag, and marched out of the classroom. Hermione felt angry, cheated, and most of all, ready to kill - the blonde son of a b*tch just managed to steal away her glory! Her honor! Her hard-earned treasure! The product of her sweat, blood and tears! The answer to her--

"It's her," one gasped, as she passed by.

"It is! It is!" the other answered. "Shameless!"

"To think she's the Head Girl!" their friend muttered. "I would never be so bold as to do what she just did!"

Hermione frowned, but other than that paid them no more attention. She had bigger ferrets to skin.

Just as she was to ignore and pass a large crowd gathered in front of the Great Hall, a hand snatched her arm. "Hey!" Hermione started, instinctively pulling away. She stopped when she recognized who grabbed her. "Ginny? Ginny, what's wrong?"

The younger Gryffindor looked absolutely pallid. She dragged Hermione towards the center of the large crowd.

"Ginny? I don't-- what-- oww, that's my foot you stupid--"

"I thought you had your dignity, Hermione?" Parvarti asked her, her brows cocked up.

Hermione shot her an exasperated look and pulled her arm back. "What are you talking about? Of course I have my--"

Lavender pointed at something below her feet. "Then what's that?"

Hermione followed the finger, and gasped: there, written on the floor in mixed yellow, red, and orange loose rose petals, was a note that read:

- D.M,

Would you be my date for the Graduation Ball? Please say yes.

H.G. -

For the third time that day, her mind went kaput.

She registered a heavy weight around her shoulders and looked to see Malfoy staring at her with an expression akin to pity and compassion. "Sorry, Granger. Not that I'm not flattered, but I am going with Pansy..." He smiled. "I hope you understand."

She couldn't say a word.

He tilted her head and kissed her swiftly on the lips. "I appreciate the offer, though. I'll think about it, if that would console you." And he was gone.

Hermione was left shaking with humiliation, fury, and contempt. She didn't pay attention to the stares she was receiving - in her mind was one thing, one purpose, one word:

REVENGE.