Divine Humiliation

Divine Humiliation

I.M. Arichbich's Tip Number One: NEVER feel guilty for rubbing your success on your enemies' faces wasn't helping her in the least.

"Stupid book," Hermione said, throwing the piece of trash on the floor. In the past she treated the book like a bible - she used to randomly open a page and the tip written on it would be her motto for the day. It was so sacred it would be a sacrilege for her to not adhere the tips. But now, the first rule to becoming successful, the one that used to be so logical and so easy to do, had become the most difficult of them all.

Because Hermione Granger was feeling guilty for what she did to Draco Malfoy. And something about that was just not right.

She tried every method she could in order to rid herself of the gnawing, clawing feeling of guilt inside her. She thought of the things he did to her - calling her a Mudblood, harassing her friends, insulting everything concerning and about her, stealing her valedictorian glory, and then orchestrating that pathetic display at the Great Hall. Granted, she answered with, ahem, more creative, more cunning, and more clever tricks that made his pranks look dumb and lame. Tip number thirty-seven conveniently came to her mind back then: If an idiot pokes you in the shoulder, stab him in the eye.

But the latest stab she did probably went too deep for both their comforts. After the interview yesterday, she left him looking so down and forlorn it wasn't amusing anymore. He seemed so pathetic it was bordering on pitiable.

And she knew that Draco Malfoy wasn't the type to be pitied. He was the type who just deserved to be publicly castrated.

So why wasn't she feeling jovial for having been the one who orchestrated his castration?

"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked, flying into the common room with the Hogwarts' Howlers in her hands. She waved it excitedly. "Have you read this? Oh, can I just say that this must be their finest edition ever--"

"It's their first edition, Ginny," Hermione answered with a disgruntled glance at the front page. It showed a picture of Harry holding the Quidditch Cup, and she did a double take. A sense of hope renewed her. "Oh. It's about our winning the Quidditch Cup?" Maybe nobody had yet read the interview. Maybe she could talk to Padma about 'editing' some stuff. Maybe--

"Oh, no, silly!" Ginny rolled her eyes and rummaged through the pages. "Who cares about that stuff anymore? It was obvious we're going to win it anyway--"

"I truly admire your house loyalty," she said, eyeing the other girl with disdain.

Ginny waved her hand. "No, I just meant that this---" She shoved a page right into Hermione's face, "--is more interesting than Harry's victory."

She fought the suffocating newspaper off her face to properly look at it. There, on the fourteenth page, was The Interview. It even had a picture of her and Malfoy sitting on chairs and their mouths moving, though Malfoy looked like he just swallowed a Snitch because of his incredibly uncomfortable expression. Hermione gulped as she scanned through the article. She decided to play dumb. "It's our interview," she said. "What's so interesting about it? I mean, I was there and I was bored."

Ginny took the newspaper from her and jabbed at the picture several times. "It says here that Dray-coh Mahl-foy-" she enunciated helpfully, "wants to model for Witch Weekly, and--"

"And?"

Ginny immersed herself in browsing, and then grinned. "And--" She paused for a more dramatic effect; "Malfoy said he thinks you two are a perfect match in every possible way!" She placed a hand on her forehead and pretended to faint. "If a guy says that about me then I'd have jumped on him right then and there."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't see the reason why you should, or why I should for that matter." Pause, shudder, vomit at the mental image.

Ginny looked affronted. "Honestly, Hermione! The guy practically proposed to you! What more do you want?"

Well that was surprising. She never thought of it that way! Hermione prayed she wasn't blushing as she said, "That's absurd. Of course he wasn't proposing! Maybe he was just... I don't know, trying to pass off as though he regards me highly or something. Honestly, Ginny. Malfoy was probably lying through his teeth!" Of course the bloody truth spell prevented him from doing so, but nobody else needed to know that.

"Featured word, 'probably'," Ginny deadpanned.

"He's going out with Parkinson," Hermione responded with a flourish.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Stop living in the past, Hermione Granger. Haven't you heard? Those two never dated. Featured word, 'never'. All of it was a cover up for the parents. Featured words, 'cover up'." Ginny winked at her. "Who knows, maybe the Slytherin git fancies you as much as you fancy him. Featured words, 'fancies you'."

Now that was insulting. "I do not fancy Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. "How many times do I have to tell you that I did not do that display! I will not ask Draco Malfoy for the Graduation Ball, not now, not ever! The featured word, in case you've missed it, is 'NOT'."

"Hypothetical situation: let's say I believe you, Hermio--"

"Hypothetical situation: what if I shove that newspaper up your--"

"Hermione," Ginny continued as if she hadn't been interrupted with a threat of physical violence, "let's say I believe you didn't do the display at the Great Hall--" She inserted a slimy smile that obviously said 'yeah, right' "--and that you wouldn't ask Malfoy for the dance. But what if he asks you, huh? Would you go with him?"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the million-dollar question. "He wouldn't," Hermione answered simply and quickly.

"This proves he just might," Ginny said, waving the newspaper as evidence.

"That proves nothing," Hermione countered vehemently. "You know, I'm so surprised you're making such a big deal out of that interview. I mean, for Merlin's sake, don't you have better things to do than... than... wave that at my face?"

The Gryffindor took the hint and stopped waving. "Fine," she said flippantly. "But if he asks you out, you'll get a big, fat I-TOLD-YOU-SO from me." And she was gone, conveniently unequipped with the newspaper she was armed with only moments ago.

Hermione sighed, rolled the newspaper, lifted the cushion out of the couch, and shoved it underneath. She replaced the cushion and grunted. Now, she felt not only guilt but also humiliation, because Malfoy's answer implicated things that were definitely out of her comfort zone. Way to go, dumbass.

"I need to get out," she murmured. Thankfully she didn't have practice today so she didn't have to face the dumbass in question. Since Flitwick gave them the morning off, she planned on asking permission for a leisurely walk around Hogsmeade. It was the perfect break she needed.

Surprisingly, the hallways were devoid of students young and old. A frown fleeted across her face, but she dismissed it, thinking it was definitely better to be ignorant of things than be in the center of unwanted attention. Hermione began to relax as she walked.

Before she reached McGonagall's office, however, a red-faced Ron forced her into a corner. "Hey," she greeted cautiously, taking the color on his face as that brought about by anger. "Are you okay?"

"Hermione," he said, ignoring her question. "I... um... I want to ask you something."

Please not about the interview not about the interview not about the interview... "Sure."

His ears burned a bright-red hue as he fumbled for words. "Um... how much is a... I mean, you're a Muggleborn, right?" He didn't wait for the obvious answer. "Of course you are. So you know... you know the price of stuff in the Muggle world, right? Of course you do. I mean--"

Hermione drew a blank as she tried to digest what he was saying. One thing was for certain, though: it wasn't about the interview. Thank heavens. "Ron, just ask me the damn question."

He looked at her, summoned every fiber of courage he had, and asked, "Do you think I could buy a robe with fifteen Sickles?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I honestly don't know," she answered, looking at him strangely. "My mum buys my robes for me so I don't know how much one costs. But, Ron, what's this got to do with me knowing the price of Muggle stuff?"

"Nothing!" he said quickly. "Hey, I think I saw Pa--er, Harry. Bye!" And off Ron went.

"Strange people, these Weasleys," she muttered under her breath. And it took you seven years to realize that? her brain berated. She continued on her way to the door.

Without warning, Hermione was caught in a tight grip and her vision filled with a very angry Harry. The color on his face effectively placed Ron's to shame. "Harry?" she asked. Just then, she heard a voice that was soft one moment then loud the next...

"I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK! I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK!"

She glanced behind him, and saw an offending, profane creature. "Oh my God," she muttered, fixing her gaze at Harry's very angry eyes. "Is that--"

"IT BLOODY HELL IS!!!" Harry exploded, his fingers digging angrily into her flesh. "ANOTHER BLOODY GIFT!!!"

Hermione yelped, and he released her. She looked at the peacock, with its brightly colored tail, its red and green ribbon hanging from its neck, and its mouth opening to say, "I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK! I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK!"

"I AM BLOODY SERIOUS THIS TIME!!!" Harry exploded again, angrily stamping his foot on the ground. He angrily pointed at the poor bird. "I AM GOING TO BLOODY MUTILATE BLOODY BLAISE ZABINI!!!" And angrily he went, with the perky peacock proudly proclaiming, "I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK! I'm HARRY'S peaCOCK!"

She shook her head. Amazing how people could be so pathetic. An image of Malfoy hovered in her head, and with a guilty sigh she dismissed it.

Just when she were fifteen steps away from the office, her arm was yanked so viciously Hermione thought she heard a popping sound from her shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was dragged inside a very dark room and pushed against a wall. A hand immediately covered her mouth, which was a good thing, because she was ready to curse whoever the bastard was to hell.

"Be quiet," her captor ordered sternly. Malfoy.

Being the sensible, intelligent woman that she was notorious for, Hermione bared her teeth and bit on the small amount of flesh she had contact with.

"OWWW!!!" Malfoy howled, releasing her from his hold. "You bit me you stupid--"

"Be quiet!" she retorted, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. In the last few days her mouth had had more contact with a part of Malfoy than she ever wanted to have. Disgusting. Vile. Yuck. "What's the big idea, huh? Dragging me into this room and shoving me up a wall? What're you planning to do with me, huh?" The quiet room resounded with her voice, making it all the more obvious that she was screaming the words out.

"Stop conjuring evil images in your head, Granger. I feel so molested. I don't have any plans with you."

"Then good morning and go to hell." She turned her back to him and groped for the door.

"At least, not yet."

Hermione stilled. And turned. "Excuse me?"

"I'm assuming you've read the Hogwarts' Howlers," Malfoy said, the last words filled with so much contempt he was spitting them out.

Wiping saliva from her arms (Disgusting. Vile. Yuck!) she nodded, remembered he couldn't see her, and said, "Only the part about...um, us."

"You and the rest of the bloody student body!" And he started throwing a fit as sounds of chairs being pushed filled the room.

"Not that I want to see you," Hermione started, "but can we talk with the lights on? It feels so strange talking to you in the dark."

Without warning, a flame shot in front of her towards the ceiling, igniting several candles resting on metal circles at once. Hermione blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden intrusion of light. She gasped at the sight the candles conjured.

Malfoy looked like he'd been to hell already. Circles under his eyes, unkempt robes, disheveled hair... disheveled hair?! Now those were the two words she'd never dreamed of stringing together. It felt... wrong. "Rough night?" she asked.

He glared at her with enough animosity to chill the air around them. "Let's just see how you could start the day all bright and dandy when you've got your mother's howler howling at you for a good thirty minutes."

"So... rough morning?"

He took a step towards her, looking ready to throttle.

Hermione raised her hands in defense. "Kidding!"

"This is all your fault," he accused, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you haven't slipped me that truth potion--"

"--I wouldn't have done that if you didn't do that stupid dis--"

"--that's just retaliation for stripping me in front of--"

"--something I did only because you humiliated me first." Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "So, honestly this--" she gestured around with a hand, "--is all your fault."

Malfoy pursed his lips. Then, surprisingly, hung his head and chuckled. "I guess we're pretty even, then."

"There's no such thing as 'pretty even'," she snapped. "So if you've got nothing more to say then good morning and go back to hell."

He walked to the door and casually leaned on it, effectively preventing her from going out.

"What do you think you're doing?" she sputtered.

"You're not listening, Granger," he muttered dryly. "I said I've got plans involving you."

She rolled her eyes. "Since when haven't your plans involved me?"

He grinned. "Touché." Malfoy ran his hand through his hair, trying to subdue it but obviously failing to do so since strands still managed to stand on end, making him look like Crookshanks after a violent bath. Crookshanks had never looked so ugly before "We're going out."

Images of wet, bathing cats vanished from her head. "Excuse e?!"

He grinned wider. "I have to buy a few things, and I've decided to take you along with me."

The nerve of this bloody blond bastard! "And what made you think that I'm going with you?"

"Well, one, I need an assistant, since I may not be able to carry all the things I need to get from Hogsmeade."

"Let me get this straight." Right now there's nothing in the world she wanted to do more than run her hands through his wet, golden hair... then yank it out of its bloody roots. "You need me to carry things for you?" She snorted. "What am I, a house elf?"

"Hmm. You as a house elf..." Malfoy got a dreamy look on his face. "There's a thought." He sighed. "But I guess you're just too incompetent to be one." He held up a hand when she was about to scream bloody murder. "You're distracting me from the topic at hand. Another reason why I'm sure you're going with me, is this."

A shiny, shimmer-y splendor of a necklace dangled from his finger, and Hermione gasped as the tear-shaped ruby pendant's luminescence reached her eyes. "What--"

Before she could say more, his face loomed before hers. A snap sounded in the room, and she looked down to see the necklace dangling from her neck. She swallowed. The necklace was exquisite.

Naturally, she was suspicious. Hermione squinted at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His eyes were drawn to the ruby pendant, and he dragged them upwards to meet hers. "Perfect," he purred.

A shiver passed through her, but she convinced herself that it was because of anger and not--

"Take off your robe." His eyes were especially bright when he spoke.

She snorted again. "You're dreaming."

Malfoy raised his brows. "Then why are you undressing?"

Hermione looked down and was shocked to find her fingers nimbly peeling off her robe. She tried to stop her movements but they were choreographed, like she was nothing but a doll with limbs attached to strings and being made to move despite her protests.

Moments later, and her robe were draped on her arm. Her eyes were slits as she glared at him. "You've placed an Imperius Curse on me, didn't you."

Malfoy shook his head. "I'm not stupid to commit that in school. It's just that, now, my will is stronger than yours and that makes you do whatever I want you to do." His eyes sparkled with unmistakable malice.

She put two and two together. "The necklace," she bit out, pointing at the offending object on her neck. "This necklace--"

"--looks beautiful on you," he said, grinning no longer. "And as long as you have that on, you're under me." The grin returned. "Figuratively, of course. Unless..." Malfoy winked at her.

Hermione let out a cry of outrage, and posed to snatch the offensive jewel off her.

"Don't," he ordered, and immediately her actions ceased. "You are not to remove that necklace, do you hear me? Say yes."

"Yes." She gritted her teeth. "So help me, Malfoy, if I ever get out of this curse--"

"Don't fret, luv," he said, dragging a finger down her cheek. The smile he gave her was promising. "It's only for a few measly hours. Follow me." Malfoy opened the door, and her feet moved after him. "I can't wait to show off my... assistant. But I have to look presentable, don't I?" He shoved her out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Hermione never felt this much rage in her entire life. She'd much rather have tea and cookies with Voldemort and the Death Eaters than be Draco Malfoy's slave for a day! Of all the possible mortifying experiences out there, this one far outweighed them all! She tried not to think of the things she had to do to-- or with- him... it was impossible not to shudder or cringe.

And she was actually feeling sorry for him?

Horrible incorrigible terrible bloody blond bastard! You just wait, so help me I'll murder you!

He came out a few moments later, looking so clean and bright he shone like a Galleon. "Let's go out."

"I don't have permission," she gritted.

"Dah-ling, when you're with me you won't need it," he said suavely. To prove his point they both walked out of the castle and not once did anyone move to stop them.

The walk to Hogsmeade reminded Hermione of a biblical scenario where a prophet was made to walk towards his doom. This was exactly like that, because she knew - she just knew - that this was a chance for Malfoy to humiliate her in front of, well, anyone.

It was cold. Hermione decided to put on her robe, and when she accomplished that she paused. What's that he said? "My will is stronger than yours..." That meant hers still existed despite the curse! Maybe she could escape! Maybe she could take the stupid necklace off her, throw it at his head, and run like hell. Then she'd hope for the best, which included a lovely bump bulging on his gorgeous head.

But before she could try her plan the bastard stepped beside her and took her arm. "Just so you won't get lost," he said.

Stupid idiot.

Hermione looked around her when they arrived. Fortunately, she couldn't see anyone from Hogwarts, so news of her humiliation - or whatever the dumbass had planned for her - wouldn't hopefully reach them. Maybe no one even knew they were here...

"Mr. Malfoy, oh, Draco!"

So much for that thought.

Hermione had time to glance at the woman's face before she buried it on Malfoy's neck. What is she, a vampire? He let go of her arm and hugged the wench back.

Stupid idiot.

"Hello, Georgiana," he cooed, then removed the wench's hands off him.

The wench - oh, where's her manners, Georgiana - smiled a very toothy smile, showing off her straight and perfectly white molars. "Oh, I'm so glad I saw you. I've read the Hogwarts' Howlers and I would love to get a commentary about--"

"Well, you see, Georgiana, Ms. Granger--" he pointed at her, "--begged me to accompany her around Hogsmeade, so I'm afraid the commentary would have to wait."

The wench - excuse me, Georgiana - glanced at her. "Oh. You're Ms. Granger, I see. I didn't recognize you at all because you looked almost pretty in the picture. Well." She looked at Malfoy again. "We'll talk soon?"

Malfoy's smile looked forced. "Soon is perfectly fine with me."

"Oh! Perfect." The wench - blast it, Georgiana! - smiled again. "'Til then!" And finally she left.

"Who's she?" Hermione asked, unable to stop herself from inquiring about the wench. Georgiana. Whatever.

"Georgiana Sinclair," Malfoy answered, as they went inside a shop full of objects and people. There, he grabbed several objects and dumped them on her outstretched hands. Immediately she heard murmurs around them, and bits like 'Hogwarts', 'Head Girl and Boy' and 'elf'. "She's one of those snoopy reporters for The Daily Prophet."

"Daily Prophet?" And the wench saw them together? "You don't think she'll draw conclusions from seeing us together, don't you?"

He took a small sack from his robes and gave it to the owner of a shop. "Who cares? Oh, wait." Malfoy grinned at her. "You do. Give Mr. Salazar those."

She did, and the owner started wrapping them. "What do you mean you don't? You can't tell me you don't care if they publish something about us!"

"I just did." The dumbass shrugged. "Calm down, Granger! Honestly, the entire point of this walk was for me to relax and unwind. I can't exactly relax and unwind if I constantly have you nagging your brains out."

"You can't stop me," she said. Then cursed when he grinned.

"Actually, I can."

She began to panic. "Oh no. Don't you dare. Don't you dare! You assho--!!!"

"Shut up."

And her mouth did not cooperate with her for the entire duration of the trip.

Hermione's feet hurt. Her shoulders throbbed. Her stomach howled. What's worse, she carried dozens of plastic bags containing clothes, shoes, candies, and things of all sorts. Today, she learned that Malfoy was a compulsive buyer. He bought anything that shone like his hair or were white as his teeth or gray as his eyes. In short, he bought everything that interested him for they reminded him of himself.

Of course, another reason why he was buying things was because he wanted her to hold them for him. So here she was, lagging behind because of the weight she was carrying while he walked light and carefree.

Egotistical son of a bitc--

"Enjoying yourself?"

He had the nerve to ask! Her tongue itched to lash out, but the stupid necklace was stopping her from doing just that. Hermione contented herself with throwing him a look of pure hate, loathe, and anger.

Shutting her up was truly the cruelest thing anyone could do to her. Naturally, only Malfoy could've come up with it.

"I'd have to say, a quiet Granger is a rather enjoyable one," Malfoy continued, as though he had not a companion imagining his death and relishing it. "And you carry those bags really well. You must be built for hard labor." After a moment's thought he said, "Maybe you'd be a wonderful house elf after all."

Her grip tightened on the bags she held against her chest. I want to say something. I want to talk, damn it! Let me talk! I hate you, you disgusting "...prick."

Malfoy paused. "Excuse me?"

"I said--" Her eyes widened as she found herself free from the longest torture of her life. "I said you're a complete bastard to do this to me! This is not humiliation, let me tell you. This is downright degradation! Everything in me hurts, damn you! I'm hungry and these bags are heavy and you purposely bought them to make me suffer, didn't you?" She didn't give him a chance to speak. "I'm tired of following you around like a dog! I'm not a house elf! I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm--"

--screaming in the midst of Hogsmeade. Hermione promptly shut her mouth and had the grace to blush when people started looking at her.

"Now it is humiliation," Malfoy mocked.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. And she still couldn't find the will to drop the bags! "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you." He waved a hand dismissively. "But let it be said that even the best of enemies still hold respect for each other. We're going back to Hogwarts, but first..." Malfoy went inside a jewelry shop.

Hermione turned away. Her pride was stinging, damn it. Here she was, reduced to almost nothing, reduced to Malfoy's slave. And with a lot of people as witnesses! He'd gone too far.

He emerged from the shop, and she noticed him slipping a small velvet box inside his robe. "Let go," he said, and her arms dropped the bags she was holding.

Oh, blessed relief. She flexed her arms, getting the blood to circulate again. Hermione said nothing. At this moment, she was trying very hard not to strangle him.

Malfoy grabbed his wand and performed a spell so that his things were floating behind them. They went back to Hogwarts, and when they arrived he charmed them to float towards his room.

The walk to the Great Hall was a very quiet, stiff one. Hermione was full of indignation and anger, and she'd be damned to let him get out of this so easily. Tomorrow, she vowed, drilling a hole on his gorgeous head. I'll show you hell tomorrow.

But he wasn't done yet.

To her horror, Malfoy ordered her to sit with him in the Slytherin table. Gasps from all the houses could be heard, and if it weren't so humiliating it would've been funny. She thought she heard McGonagall thumping Snape on the back because the latter choked on his meal. Seamus and Dean were trying to keep Harry and Ron down on their table. They seem to have forgotten how to speak English, what with the unintelligible sounds sprouting from their mouths and all.

Don't say anything. Don't even look at anything.

Hermione ate her meal in stoic silence, never attempting to initiate conversations with the Slytherins. Not that they were keen in letting her join any of theirs, anyway. She did notice, however, that Malfoy was very quiet, Parkinson wasn't the least bit affected by her presence, and Zabini actually smiled all the way through lunch.

Weird.

After her meal she stood and bravely walked out of the Great Hall. The room was so quiet she could hear the beat of her heart, as well as the sound of feet right behind her.

The moment she stepped out of the hall she whirled around and predictably it was Malfoy who followed her. "You went too far," she said, her voice quivering with anger. "This started as a game and you took it too seriously--"

"It was never a game, Granger," he retorted calmly.

Hermione pursed her lips, then took the blasted jewelry off her neck. The act surprised them both. "I guess you'd want your trinket back, huh? It did its job. It made a fool out of me. Perhaps it's time you build it a shrine."

"I gave it to you. It's yours."

Well that she wasn't expecting. "What's this?" she spat. "My day's wage?"

He flashed her a triumphant smile. "You could say that." Malfoy passed by her, and pushed something in her palm. "And this," he said low, "is your bonus."

Hermione looked down and saw the velvet box he bought. She found that, inside, was a pair of tear-shaped ruby earrings and a ring.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked, not letting herself be perturbed. "Or rather, what's this supposed to do to me?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Do whatever you want. It's yours." And he was gone.

Throw it away. Throw it away! her mind berated her, as she closed her palms over the jewelries.

Later that day, she found out she couldn't.