Divine Humiliation

Divine Humiliation

"What? Are you--that's not just some crazy rumor, is it? Because it'd be annoying if it's, like--"

"Merlin knows we're so fed up with a lot of unbelievable things that if this isn't, you know, like true--"

"You guys! I swear I heard it straight from Parvarti's lips, and that she actually saw--"

Three heads bent together, then drew back in wide astonishment.

"You're kidding!"

"Those two? Isn't that... I don't know, like travesty or something?"

"Like totally! Falling in love with your enemy is like... like totally far out!"

"Like yeah!"

"Hello? Don't you know that 'falling in love with your enemy' ranks the highest in a recent survey conducted by Georgiana Sinclair on 'What Women Under the Age of Twenty Dream About'? Something about... about unresolved sexual tension or something. The whole 'I pull your pigtail because I like you!' is really very sexy."

Silence.

"Oh, wow. UST."

"Like, yeah."

Hermione just had to roll her eyes at the absurdity of the conversation, but then again, it was one of the 'better' scenarios she'd witnessed as the day slowly progressed. Some were as dumb as Slytherin girls cracking their knuckles at her and threatening to shed her blood for daring to claim their leader as her boy-toy. Some were as frivolous as Gryffindor girls shrieking in delight at finally having to crack open that stupid gap between the houses. Some were even as melodramatic as several of the Gryffindors or Slytherins openly declaring that they would now accept invitations, be it for dinner or something more serious or scandalous, from their 'rival' schoolmates.

And all because of one kiss from the Hottest Couple in Hogwarts History. That only a handful of students witnessed, by the way.

Who knew that one act could produce such an amazing amount of change in the entire student body?

Someone had the nerve to ask her if she and Malfoy already practiced 'Inter-house unity.' As if!

It didn't stop there, though.

That morning, she was actually dragged into the girls' bathroom where she was mobbed by dozens of girls aged eleven to seventeen asking... no, demanding, that Hermione share something about her experience now that she was officially the girlfriend of one Draco Malfoy, a.k.a-suddenly-the-most-desirable-man-to-ever-step-on-Hogwarts. Which made her Hermione Granger, a.k.a-the-world's-most-blessed-and-lucky-woman-EVER.

Which really made her feel like wanting to commit everyone around her to St. Mungo's. Clearly, they've all gone clinically insane.

If she'd known her revenge would come fully equipped with this sudden interest in her love life, she would've done herself a favor and kidnapped, gift-wrapped, and sent Malfoy to the Dementors as a late Christmas present. Or possibly strung him up and draped him like mistletoe at the Great Hall. Hmm. Lovely mental image.

But there was no use for wishful thinking now, was there?

"WHAT?!" was her very intelligent reaction to the onslaught of questions thrown at her face. "What are you all talking about?" she demanded, careful to keep the hysteria off her voice. They couldn't... they couldn't possibly know about--

"Come on Hermione," Ginny told her, winking like the conspiratorial gossiper that she was. "Don't act like this 'thing' between you and Malfoy's a secret. Why, everybody knows it by now!"

So much for that thought.

Keep it under control, Hermione Granger. There'd be no sense in trying to hex what they know out of them. Plus! Detention, graduation... my semi-pristine record... "Everybody knows what? Will someone please explain to me what you're all ranting about?"

Padma Patil stepped out of the crowd, quill and paper on the ready. "This is for Howling Hogwarts' next edition, Hermione. What do you feel now that you and Draco Malfoy are considered a 'couple'? How will you explain to us how you developed this controversial 'thing' between the two of you?"

Cursing the fire on her cheeks she cried, "What 'thing'? There is no 'thing'! There was never a 'thing'' You're all gravely mistaken about this 'thing'!" She took deep breaths, looked at each face in the very crowded and hot bathroom. Very skeptical ones stared right back at her.

"So... you're saying there's nothing going on between you and Malfoy?"

"No!"

"Oh, really?" Ginny countered with a very sly smile. Funny how she wasn't sorted into Slytherin, really. "Then I guess what you and Malfoy did outside your room is something you do with all your male acquaintances, huh."

Mortification filled her to the brim, making her mouth drop open in surprise. I will not lose control. I will not lose control. I will NOT lose control. Forcing herself to ignore what Ginny said Hermione muttered, "What made you think that... that Malfoy and I can possibly be a--" she winced, "--a couple?"

Without preamble, Lavender and Parvarti shot their hands up in the air. Something they never did in class.

Well, they did in Divination, but that wasn't really the point here. And not that that was really a class.

"We saw you two," said Parvarti.

"In each other's arms--" contributed Lavender.

"--without a space between you--"

"--your lips begging for a kiss--"

"--your eyes telling each other--" Parvarti suddenly grabbed Lavender by the waist and spoke in a deep, masculine tones, "--'love me, darling Hermione!'"

Lavender placed the back of her hand against her forehead and squeaked, "--'cherish me, Draco mi amor!--''

"All right," said Hermione tightly, trying not to throw up as she watched these two reenact so ludicrously, "I get what you're saying. You both saw us... do that." And excuse me, I did NOT squeak! she thought in indignation.

"Kiss," corrected Lavender.

"Unless you were considerate enough to help Malfoy locate his tonsils with your tongue," snickered Parvarti.

The mental image was enough to make her skin shrivel and die. "For Merlin's sake, we have minors!" cried Hermione, pointing at the dozen children loitering in the bathroom.

Ginny dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Oh, please. Like they don't know about those stuff, anyway." She fixed an uncomfortably interested gaze at her friend. "So, Hermione. Details? Explanations? We'll all be so glad to listen to what you have to say."

The others nodded repeatedly.

The nerves of these people! "Um... well..."

"What prompted you to have a relationship with him?" asked Susan, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.

"How long have you been seeing each other?" asked Hannah.

"What can you say about this relationship affecting the legendary Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry?" asked Padma, quill slapping against paper in rhythm.

Like hell it will! "About that--"

"Oh My God! Have you seen him without his clothes?" asked an ickle firstie.

Hermione just had to look scandalized. "Why you little gossi--"

"How does he kiss?" asked a second year. "Rate it. Scale of one to ten!"

"I bet it's a twenty!"

"I bet it's one hundred even!"

A chorus of giggles and girly sighs fleeted in the room.

"Oh Hermione, you lucky, lucky you!" they gushed in unison.

Appalled by the invasion of her privacy, Hermione struggled to fight the blinding migraine she was developing. For the love of sanity, it wasn't like her private life was some book that could be dissected at anyone's will! In a tight voice she seethed, "For the last time, Malfoy and I are not--"

"Seriously, Hermione. Why do you think Malfoy fell head over heels in love with you? Is it, a) you suddenly grew beautiful this summer as you felt the need to be more than just one of the boys and must actually be noticed by them, b) you helped Malfoy overcome a problem so pivotal that you changed his outlook on life, love, and blood, c) Dumbledore just popped in one day and told you that for an inane reason you and Malfoy should be married, and by the way, you're not yet married to each other... are you? d) Harry and Ron ignored you all of a sudden, and you turned to Malfoy for companionship albeit the scathing sarcasm on both your parts, or e) this is just one of those cliché romances that evolved from a single bet?"

The room held its breath as they waited for Hermione to answer Padma's very twisted question.

She blinked. After a long time she said, "What was the question again?"

Surprisingly, all the girls looked satisfied at her answer. Again, an annoying chorus of girly sighs and giggles haunted the room.

Hermione had a frightening image of all the girls coming up to her for a hug. She swallowed hard, trying to dismiss the image.

"I knew it," said Lavender, rubbing her palms together in glee.

"Ah, love," breathed Parvarti, heaving a deep sigh.

"Sweet, sweet love, crushing down walls, pillaging away barriers..." Susan and Hannah looked at each other and giggled feverishly. Who knew Hufflepuffs had a knack for nonsensical poetry?

Padma furiously scribbled in her notebook, 'this may be the beginning of a legendary romance between former foes, and only Howling Hogwarts has the scoop on how--'

Throwing her arms up Hermione said, "This is insane! I haven't even answered the question yet and you all think--"

"But you didn't have to! It's very evident in the way you weren't able to think properly when asked a simple question," Ginny shrewdly pointed out. "So unlike you, Hermione Granger."

At that moment, Hermione wanted to throttle her. Or snap her bones like breadsticks. Whichever. Her fingers positively itched for the younger girl's neck... one mighty force and cccrrraaaccckkksnaaapppp--

As if reading Hermione's evil intention, Ginny held her hands up defensively. "It's not that I blame you or anything. I mean, come on, he might be a slimy Slytherin but I think he's perfect for you."

Hermione's eyes twitched dangerously. "Ginny--"

"She's right, Hermione! Just look at Malfoy. He's, what, only the most desirable male to ever set foot on Hogwarts?" Susan said.

"Since when?" Hermione returned acidly. "This morning?"

"His height is perfect for yours," added Hannah, ignoring the comment.

"He's blond," said Parvarti.

"And gorgeous," said Lavender.

"Witty," sighed a fifth year.

"Romantic," gushed an unfamiliar sixth year.

"And blond," said Parvarti.

"And so... cunning," whispered a fourth year.

"And gorgeous," said Lavender.

"Sly," added Padma.

"Rich," giggled a third year.

"Gorgeous," said Lavender.

"And blon--"

"All right!" Hermione repeated, not wanting to have Malfoy's list of stupid adjectives grow longer by the second. "I get it, okay?" She rubbed her temples with her fingers. Three more minutes, she thought. Three more minutes and I'll step out of this room, and if I have to take them all out I swear to God I will--

"So," Ginny asked, casually studying her nails, "any plans for a date? And don't you dare lie--I can have your answer verified, you know." She had a determined gleam in her eyes as she spoke.

Hermione glared at her. "Then why don't you just ask your sources if Draco and I--"

"Aha! Draco!"

"First name basis!"

"Love!"

The room was so hushed Hermione could swear she could hear her heart ring in her ears. She cursed herself for that tiny slip. This was exactly her version of an excruciating torture: sure, bring in the agony of being questioned to death. Questions to which I've no definite answers, I might add! "Fine," she muttered, casting a venomous glance around her. "Fine. If you must know, Malfoy and I are going to the Graduation Ball together. There. Satisfied?"

There was silence.

For a moment Hermione thought they hadn't heard. Or had gone deaf. Hopefully.

Then as one, all the girls rushed out of the room, emitting high-pitched shrieks of pent-up excitement and glee.

And that was how news of her so-called relationship with Malfoy was confirmed. Like wildfire, it consumed Hogwarts entirely that by the time dance practice arrived even Professor Flitwick had heard of it.

Which was odd, because normally the faculty didn't concern itself with the 'romantic' affairs of the students.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," the professor said, his eyes twinkling as he looked at them. "Now that you're... shall we say, together, I expect that your performance today will be a far cry from yesterday's, hmm?"

Hermione hastily looked away, but curiosity got the better of her and she stole a glance at Malfoy.

He was smiling rather... evilly. "Of course, sir."

"Yes," said Hermione, turning at the professor before she was caught. "Of course, sir." The way Malfoy was smiling made her feel slightly nauseous. Who knew what dreadful things occurred in his head?

"Very good, very good. And... dare I say that yesterday's events were all just a product of a spat?"

Malfoy nodded, and directed this statement at Hermione, "It's all been taken cared of."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she ignored it.

"Well. Let's hope it won't happen again." Professor Flitwick winked at them and clapped. Music started playing in the room. "Positions, everyone. I can tell we'll all have a marvelous time today!"

Malfoy took her in his arms, holding her closer than he had in their previous practices. "So," he told her, his breath tickling her ear, "we're a couple, huh."

He said it so casually that what he said might as well be about the weather. "I believe they believe we are," she pointed out.

Malfoy drew back. "I don't suppose you have anything to do with it?"

She lifted her chin haughtily at him. Why you nasty bast-- "I did nothing of that sort, and how dare you insinuate that I--"

"Really?" His smile was pure malice and fiendish delight. "That wasn't what I heard."

"What did you hear, anyway?"

He chuckled. "That we're a couple, and all because of a kiss we did. That I reckon only a few people saw." Malfoy made a big show of looking around him. "I suppose we should have a repeat performance; that way they'll get firsthand information rather than rely on rumors." True to his word, he wrapped his arm around her waist and moved towards her.

Blushing like mad, she placed her hands on his chest. "No! Let's not--"

"You're right," he said, backing away. How she hated the way his eyes glinted so wickedly, like he had some sort of plan--"You're right."

Hermione removed her hands from him. "Thank you." At least he had the decency to--

"We should do it in the Great Hall. That way, all will have the privilege to witness it."

He was such a sneaky bastard! "Malfoy--"

"Hush now, Granger." He tightened his hold on her hand, and at Flitwick's instruction twirled her into his embrace. "Don't start a fight. Not when everybody's looking at us as the Hottest Couple in Hogwarts History. Which is true, don't you agree?"

Stifling her cry of outrage, she kept her mouth shut. But Malfoy was right; she could feel a lot of eyes on her and Malfoy as they danced. Which was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Two sets of eyes burned her the fiercest. Unfortunately, she knew to whom those belonged to.

The practice came to an end almost too abruptly, with the professor in very high spirits. "Well done, all of you!" he said, clapping his tiny hands repeatedly. "Well done! And with the dance only days away, I reckon that all of you will perform spectacularly." He patted Hermione's arm, as well as Malfoy's. "Fifty points to all the houses, and have a happy day!"

The students poured out of the room, but Malfoy held her back to wait for the others to get out. "Two o'clock, my room," he told her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek briefly. "We still have that speech to work on, don't we, luv?"

She nodded, bristling at the intimate touch he gave her. The nerve! "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting." And then he flashed that sickeningly fake smile, and left her alone in the room.

Hermione took a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable but hoping it wouldn't happen at all. But as she stepped out of the classroom she became aware of two sets of feet trailing behind her. She quickened her pace, hoping to lose them. Unfortunately, they hastened their pace as well, until two royally enraged Gryffindors were at her sides, flanking her.

She had no choice but to face them now.

"Hermione," said Harry, lightly taking her by the arm, "we have to talk."

"That's right," contributed Ron, speaking through thin lips. "We have to talk some sense into you."

Like this was something she looked forward to all day. "Really, guys," she started, taking her arm off Harry's hold, "can we just--"

"Eager to get back at your boyfriend, aren't you?" Ron told her bitingly.

Hermione cringed. "He's not my boyfriend," she stated. Too quickly.

Harry looked at her in complete silence, his eyes contemplative behind his glasses.

How she hated him when he was like this, all big brotherly like and overprotective. Suddenly she wished he were all CAPSLOCKY - because Hermione knew exactly how to deal with him when he was like that. But when he was silent like this...

"Malfoy's not my boyfriend," she repeated with greater emphasis but in a lower voice. She looked over at Ron, who was showing early signs of apoplexy. "Believe me. I know what I'm doing."

"Really?" Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then why are you spending all your time with him?"

"I'm not spending all my time with him! Look, why don't we go to my room, and I'll--"

"No, I think we'll discuss this Malfoy 'thing' you have right here," Ron insisted, his face an ugly purple. He stomped his foot to illustrate his point.

Irritated, Hermione glanced around her. She spotted a door, and upon opening it she found the room to be empty. "All right," she said. "Go in, both of you."

They did.

Once inside the room, Hermione cast a silencing charm around so that no one else would hear what she had to say. She took a deep breath, conscious of the troubled and furious looks Harry and Ron threw at her.

Wasting not one more second, Ron launched into his tirade. "If you're not spending time with him, then why are you going to the Ball with him?"

She cast a surprised look at him. "Been listening to the rumors, haven't you Ronald?"

Ron's face reddened. "Actually, we saw you commit to that with your tongue."

Harry straightened. "Ron--"

The migraine she lost during practice returned to her with a vengeance. "I'm sorry you have to see that," she began. "Look. What I'm saying is, I'm not going with Malfoy because I want to, so stop looking at me like I'm in love with him or something. I'm going with him because I have to."

"Like that ever made any sense!" snarled Ron.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Am I really going to tell them everything? Hermione wasn't sure, but she also wanted to clear things up among the three of them. "Because Malfoy's a bastard, and someone had to put him in his place." There. That should be enough, for now.

"And automatically, it just had to be you," said Ron, irritated. "Merlin, Hermione! Why does it have to be you?"

She sent him a scathing glance. "I have a score to settle with him, and I won't stop until I make him pay."

"Hermione--" said Harry, but was cut off when she spoke in a low voice.

"Harry, Ron, listen to me. Please, don't ask me to give you a detailed explanation because I personally think it's between me and Malfoy. You don't have to be involved in it, because you never were." She paused. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

The silence they gave her was deafening, until one of them broke it. "Tell us one thing. Did he--" said Ron, his face tightening,"--did he hurt you?"

Hermione slowly shook her head. "Pride's what's at stake here. I can't ever forgive him for making a fool out of me time and again."

Harry and Ron shared a look she didn't want to interpret. Ron swore under his breath but didn't say anything more. Harry stared at her, and finally spoke, "All right, Hermione. We respect your decision, but we also want you to know you can tell us if - and when - Malfoy goes too far. We'll beat the crap right out of that git in no time."

She expelled a breath she wasn't aware she was holding back. "Thank you."

"Bloody Slytherins," said Ron, punching his right palm with his left fist. "If only it wouldn't warrant a lifetime at Azkaban I would've--"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Now that she wasn't the center of this conversation, she might as well pull some jabs of her own. "Oh come off it, Ron," she said, crossing her arms. "It's obvious that you don't think all Slytherins are bad."

He swung to confront her so suddenly she thought the momentum would make him fall on his face. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

She grinned. "I do believe you and Parkinson have had your share of time together, with or without Snape's supervision."

At this, his face took on a bloodier color. Ron glanced at Harry. "We haven't--"

"And you--" Hermione said, swinging to the other. "Zabini's growing on you, isn't she?"

Harry looked startled. "She isn't--"

"You both don't have dates yet to the Ball, right? Then ask Zabini and Parkinson. I'm sure they would jump at the chance to go with you!"

They both wore expressions like fishes stolen from water.

It was entertaining, really, to see them both gobble for air.

"Don't look at me like I'm mad," admonished Hermione. "I know you both like the palms of my hands. You know you want to take them but for each other's sake you're putting on some kind of pretense. Well it ends right now, and for crying out loud take the girls out!"

Silence.

"You--you don't mean that," said Ron in a small voice.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to be the only Gryffindor to go with a Slytherin," accused Harry bitterly.

Caught in her lie, Hermione said with a reluctant grin, "Yes. Yes I am."

Ron began to flap the neckline of his robe. "It's hot in here, don't you think?" he said in a pained voice. Taking the lead, he stepped out of the room.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and grinned.

"What?" snapped Ron once they were out of the room. "It was hot in there--"

"And what do we have here?" drawled a voice.

They stopped and glared at the intruder. "Nott," Hermione said evenly. Harry and Ron bristled at her sides.

Nott lifted his brow at her, then glanced at the room they just used. "Been having a tryst with your bosom buddies, haven't you Granger?"

Harry's lunge at him was prevented when Hermione placed a hand on his chest. "Don't!"

Nott stepped away from the wall and walked towards her, his eyes dark with foreboding and menace. "I don't know what Malfoy sees in you, but I'll definitely be on the lookout." He lifted his hand, and just when he was an inch from touching her Hermione slapped his hand away. Nott curled his lip. "Tell your 'friend' I'll be on the lookout for him as well." And then he was gone.

She exhaled loudly, then stared at the departing figure of the Slytherin. Nott was... a different type of evil. His was the more disturbing one than Malfoy's. The more threatening one. The one she was, admittedly, more frightened of.

"You see?" demanded Ron. He pointed at the direction Nott took. "You see what fraternizing with the enemy does to you?"

"That's nothing," she said. "I won't make much of what he said. He's all talk, Ron."

"But still--"

"I have to go," said Hermione. Without another word, she ran towards the Head Boy room, stopping only when she reached the portrait hanging before it.

"Hark! Who goes there?" The knight pushed up his metal helmet and glared at her. "Who dares brave the abode of my lord?"

Hermione looked around her, and immediately felt annoyed at the curious (and totally loud!) looks she was receiving from the students who saw her standing before Malfoy's room. "Tell your 'lord' Hermione Granger's here, and--"

She hadn't even finished her sentence before the portrait opened and she was permitted to enter. "Thank you."

The room was a mute shade of greens and whites, the perfect blend for a Slytherin occupant. It looked cold and silent, and apart from the roaring flames in the fireplace nothing was moving. "Malfoy?" she called, taking in her surroundings. Where is he? "Malf--"

Something was tapping the glass on the window at the far side of the room. Hermione hesitated, then went to investigate. Outside she found an owl with a letter in its beak. Then she started; it wasn't just a letter.

It was a howler.

She opened the window and the owl came soaring in; landing outlandishly atop Malfoy's sofa. The bird knew she wasn't the recipient of the letter as it hopped away from her every time she attempted to get near it.

Curiosity was burning inside Hermione. Who sent that howler? His father? But... why? Why would--

"Oswald!" boomed Malfoy's voice. Hermione looked just in time to see him emerge from the door. He glanced at her, and his lips tightened.

As if asked to provide an explanation for her presence she said, "We have that speech to work on, remember?"

"I do." His voice was hard, and he headed towards the owl. The bird hopped towards him, dropped the parcel on his palms, flapped its wings, then zoomed towards the window, nearly hitting her face as it did.

Hermione bit her lip, then closed the window. She slowly turned and saw that Malfoy still had the howler enclosed in his fingers. "Do you..." she started, "do you want me to leave?"

Malfoy shook his head, and without another word determinedly pulled the ribbon holding the howler together. It jumped from his hands and began to fleet through the air, and in a crystalline voice a woman spoke:

'Draco my son, is this true? Word has it that you... and that Muggleborn girl... oh, I shudder to even think of an appropriate term for you both. We've been informed that you even have plans on taking her for the Graduation Ball... and what about dear sweet Pansy, Draco? You're choosing a person of lower status than a Parkinson? Such nonsense, my son! You'll be the laughingstock of the entire wizarding community! Your father and I, we require your answers and we will wait for them today. We must have your word that you will not take her. Do we make ourselves clear? Cut whatever game you have with this girl, and DO NOT TAKE HER TO THE BALL WITH YOU!'

And the howler was abruptly torn into pieces, went aflame.

Hermione didn't dare break the silence as she stared at Malfoy. His mother's words rang in her ears: Do not take her with you! A person of lower status than a Parkinson, such nonsense! She swallowed hard, and tears burned in her eyes. It was times like this that she hated discrimination. What was wrong with a witch like her - who earned the highest marks in her year, mind you - to go with a wizard like Malfoy? There was nothing wrong with it, nothing at all!

Then she blinked. Why, of course there're lots of things wrong with it! He's Pureblood; I'm Muggleborn. He's Slytherin; I'm Gryffindor. And then there's--

"So," Malfoy spoke, shattering her reverie, "let's get started." His voice booked no argument, and the smile on his lips was more forced than ever.

He was silently commanding her not to mention the incident, but curiosity got the better of her. "Do you think..." Her voice wavered when he glared at her, but she continued, "Is it still a good idea to go with me to the Ball? Your parents are obviously against it. Maybe... maybe--"

"My parents won't have any say in the matter," he told her in steely tones. "I take whoever I please, even if it doesn't please them."

"But--"

"Look, Granger. Would you rather talk about this than do that damned speech? Because if you do, stay here - I'll be better off doing the speech somewhere else, on my own, anyway."

She bristled. "Fine," Hermione said. "Fine. Let's do that damned speech."

Malfoy's face relaxed, and finally a smile dawned on it again. This time, it was anything but fake. "I'm glad you see things my way." He pointed at the table, where sets of quills and high stacks of paper were placed. "Shall we?"

She walked towards the table without preamble. Picking up a quill and a piece of paper Hermione slumped on the sofa and began to scribble.

He did the same. "By the way, Granger - don't forget to let me see what you're writing. I wouldn't want us to sound bizarre and stupid and, you know, like Weasley..." Malfoy said sweetly.

Hermione lowered her paper and flashed him a bare-all-teeth-and-no-it's-not-a-real-smile-by-the-way kind of smile. "You're just so amusing."

"Why thank you." He did a mock bow. "But I do mean it."

"Whatever." She continued scribbling, and after a few minutes remembered the encounter she had with another of his kind. "Malfoy..."

He stopped and looked at her, both his brows lifted.

Should I really tell him? "Malfoy, did you... um... did you and Nott...?"

"What did he do to you?" His face was blank as he spoke.

Hermione instantly regretted having opened her mouth. Reluctantly, she continued, "Nothing. It's just that... earlier he told me to watch my back because of..."

"Because of...? Tell me."

She shifted uncomfortably. "He really didn't say, but..." Hermione stared at him. "He said you should watch your back as well."

Malfoy didn't say anything, and at his silence she felt even more uncomfortable. "Forget I said anything, all right? It was probably nothing. Idle threats, that's all."

"Don't be foolish," he snapped. "We're Slytherins, Granger. There's no such thing as an idle threat to us."

"But--"

"How are you doing with your speech?" he asked calmly.

Hermione looked down at her paper. Doodle! it shouted at her. Just full of squiggly marks and lines - she wasn't really writing earlier. She was just pretending to write. "I'm not happy with it," she said, crumpling it into a tight ball. "How about yours?"

Malfoy gave her a lazy smile and crumpled his paper as well. "I wasn't happy with it either." He halfheartedly threw it, and the ball rolled to her feet.

With a swift motion she picked it up, and with a large smile she tried to unfold it. Hermione would've been successful, hadn't it because of--"Oomf!" she muttered, her lungs crushed by the weight on her chest.

His face loomed before hers. "Give it to me."

"You're--you tackled me!"

"Give me the ball, Granger."

Despite her very uncomfortable position of being pinned down on her back, Hermione found out she was having fun teasing him like this. Gasp! Shock! Horror! "Let me go," she told him evenly, "and you could have your ball."

"Give me the ball," he returned, "and I'll let you go."

She immediately tightened her hold on the crumpled paper. "Your call, Malfoy."

"No. Yours, Granger."

His fingers started crawling towards her hand, and she squealed and squirmed hard, resulting to them rolling down the sofa and onto the floor. Hermione didn't waste any time; she hastened to her feet and opened the paper.

Like hers, it was full of doodles. Apparently, she wasn't the only one without the inspiration to write anything that day. "Ha!" she said, proudly displaying her conquest. "Is this what you call a speech?"

He stood up and proceeded to dust himself off. "No it isn't," he agreed. "But I suppose yours is so much better..."

Hermione gasped. "No! Don't! That's--"

Too late.

Malfoy raised his brow. "Huh. I can tell you have a knack for self-portrait, Her-mi-o-ne..."

"That's my cat, you git."

"Well," he drawled, "you didn't do it any justice. Or does it really look this ugly?"

"Shut up." Hermione dusted herself off as well. "I'm leaving. We're not making any progress, anyway." She headed towards the door.

"What," Malfoy said, spreading his arms wide, "no kiss?"

In response, Hermione threw his ball at him where it hit him square on the forehead.

She was in very high spirits throughout the day, and she even had enough patience to not hex the sense out of anyone who dared tell her, 'I think it's soooo wonderful that you and Malfoy are soooo in love with each other!' Not that there was any sense in them to begin with, anyway.

As evening came, Hermione was early to go to her room and rest. She was going to work on that speech even if it killed her, just to show Malfoy she was... well, better.

Hours and three pages of long paragraphs later, Hermione heard scratches outside her room. She shrugged, thinking the Hogwarts ghosts were onto something again. Peeves, most probably.

Then the portrait hanging just above her dresser started screaming.

"O miss! O miss! Quickly, a lad lies outside, dying! O miss! O miss!"

Hermione quickly shot up and opened her door, ignoring the fact that she was dressed for sleep and was, in fact, only clad in her nightgown.

"Mistress!" the damsel on her portrait cried. "Oh, it was horrible, what those boys did to--"

"Oh Lord," Hermione cried, rushing towards a figure crumpled at the floor. "Oh, God."

It was Malfoy.

And he was bloodied and bruised all over.

Author's Notes: And there ends chapter 10... hehe! Thank you very much for all the support this fic's been getting from you all! I love you guys! Group glomp! --squeals--

Anyways, next chapter will explain your incoming 'what the hell happened to Draco you mean author you!' questions, okay? :) Dun-dun-dun-dun...