Divine Humiliation

Divine Humiliation

He was in pain. So much pain. Like shards of crystals were cutting through his delicate skin, searing his soft flesh as only thousands of lightning spears could. Dimly, he could hear the roaring of the sea, then realized it was the rush of his blood as his ears pounded and his heart burst with sinister rhythm, and in terrible shame he wrung out his hands and cried to heaven, "Why oh why does it have to be me, cruel, careless universe! I am an innocent soul... you will be punished... you'll see..." And then he added, in a low voice, "Mmm. Metaphors. Marvelous. Might be useful... for next... chapter..."

He continuously regained and lost consciousness, and in those instances of alertness he could see splashes of cream around him. In his sleep his memory would work wonders to evoke the lovely images that gripped him: how he rode his first broom, how he was sorted into Slytherin, how he continuously made Potter's life a living hell (bwahahaha!), how a martyr with pure heart and tender soul like him was slowly mauled to death...

I can't die! I'm too young to die! Bloody bastards, I won't allow you to kill me!

At that last thought, Draco let out a manly shriek and awoke from the pictures of the bloody bastards that got their kicks out of kicking him.

He shut his eyes and held his arms over his head, acting on instinct to shield himself. The weight on the bed shifted, and something cool and wet was pressed on his face.

"Malfoy?"

He knew that voice. Desperately clinging to that thought, Draco opened his eyes. I can't see! he thought, fear terrorizing him for a moment. Oh my God I'm blind! The bloody bastards got my eyes!

Then a towel was removed from his eyes, and he could see again.

"Granger." Her name came out like a long wheeze. He still had difficulty breathing, with the panic attack and all... "Stupid girl, you frightened me half to death!"

She blinked. The towel on her hand was squeezed so tightly water beaded and rolled off her skin. "I frightened you?" Her voice was nothing but a squeak. "I frightened you?"

He winced. He couldn't help it; his body was aching, and now Granger was hurting the only part of him that wasn't. "Don't be so melodramatic," he snapped. "You're bruising my delicately fragile ears, you twisted little--"

Granger pointed a trembling finger at his face. "You came to my door all bloodied and beaten up and you dare say I frightened you?"

"There's no need to be repetitive," he snapped. Again.

For a moment she could only gape at him, undoubtedly rendered speechless by his antics.

A warm glow suffused Draco; even at his unfortunate state he could still be an incorrigible bastard, which meant that his mental faculties were intact and, in fact, spared from the physical trauma he'd undergone.

Aha!

Take that, cruel, careless universe! You may take down this body but not this ingenious mind!

Granger was still gaping at him.

"Come now, woman," he said in alarm. "I know I could make girls speechless but, see, you've been staring at me like that for over a minute and... mind the legs, I don't want you drooling over them..."

She abruptly closed her mouth. Then threw the towel at his face. "Clean yourself up," came her dry, brittle voice.

Draco looked at the cloth in his hands, and noted that it had bloodstains already. Then he noticed that he had bandages on his arms, his torso, and even had something plastered on the side of his head. "Granger," he said evenly, "did you patch me up?"

"What, you think those bandages just stuck to you because of your oh-so-magnetic personality?"

He raised his brow. "My, a bit sarcastic, aren't we." Draco placed the towel aside, then sighed. "You're a valedictorian, correct?"

She pursed her lips. Granger looked ready to slug something.

He took that as an answer. "And you're supposed to be, what, one of the two cleverest in our class?"

She looked ready to slug him.

He didn't let that hinder him from making his point. "So, didn't it ever occur to you that you could've just, say, cast a healing spell on me?"

Now she looked ready to slug herself. "Oh."

"Oh," he mimicked.

Granger glared at him. "I panicked, all right!" she said, waving her hands like a maniac. "When I saw you lying like that I thought you were dying... and I, well, frankly I wasn't thinking straight because of all the blood, and, and..."

"And...?"

Her face was flushed, he noted with glee. Yes, Draco Malfoy could still be an evil bastard despite all his injuries. "You evil bastard!" she cackled, confirming his thoughts. "Is this how you thank me, after everything I did for you? Why you should be--"

His voice was leveled as he said, "You could've just rushed me to the infirmary. I reckon Madame Pomfrey would be happy to heal me because, you know, dried old woman, fresh young boy's body, if you get my drift--"

"You're disgusting," she spat. "And I didn't, so deal with it. And don't be presumptuous because I won't heal you, you horrible prat. I was about to, but because you're such a vile, demented thing why I ought to let you--"

In the middle of the beautiful poetry she was spouting a sudden pain shot up his side and his face contorted. He released an unmanly cry that he would no doubt regret in the future. But it was worth it, for she stopped mid-sentence and rushed at him, her hands warm and soothing on his skin. "Lie still," she ordered in brisk tones. "Don't move too much, your wounds are still fresh and--"

"Wand," he said through gritted teeth. Damn it, his ribs hurt like hell! "Heal--"

"I--" She bit her lip. "Try to sleep, all right? I'll see what I can do."

And then gentle hands moved around his face, and something light and soft was pressed to his brow and he was drifting to sleep again.

A short time later, he awoke to find himself still in miserable pain. His pain-filled eyelids opened to find a moving creature - Granger - surrounded with books.

For a stunned moment, he could only stare at her.

She was reading! While he was dying! What the hell's wrong with her! "Granger--"

Funny how she moved so fast. She was at his side immediately. "What? What? What is it, what's wrong?"

"You haven't healed me." His voice was dark with accusation. "Are you deliberately making me endure this pain to satisfy some sadistic side of your nature? Because if you are--"

Her gaze sharpened. "I haven't found the appropriate spell to heal you. All the spells I found - they didn't say anything about... about injuries sustained from fighting and--"

"Give me my wand." Draco tried to lift himself to a sitting position, but he was too weak. "I'll heal myself."

She mumbled something incomprehensible, but sounded awfully like "don't" "have" "your" "wand".

"What?"

"I said I don't have your wand."

Damn his inhuman sense of hearing.

"What?"

"I said--"

"I heard what you said!"

"But you just asked me to--"

Bloody damn it all to bloody hell. Those bloody bastards, they bloody took his bloody wand!

Draco was short of giving into his inner Potter. Meaning he was about to have a spastic rage that would inevitably resort to him spouting off words in capital letters and punctuating them with three exclamation points that broke every goddamned rule in sentence construction.

"BLOODY DAMN IT ALL TO BLOODY--"

"Here," Granger said immediately, saving him from himself. "Have some soup."

And a spoonful of warm broth was savagely shoved into his mouth.

He coughed, the sticky liquid bouncing off his throat and lips. "Damn it, woman! Are you trying to murder me?" Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I am bloody fragile here! Can't you understand, I cannot defend myself from your sadistic tendencies! I am wandless, defenseless... helpless! I'm like Potter without the bloody scar, or Weasel without the bloody hair! Oh Merlin, why didn't I just die?"

Cue the dramatic filling of his eyes and the cupping of his face in his palms. Sob, breathe, a little hiccup...

But Granger, damn her, proved to be a big pile of rock. "Cut it out, Malfoy. Your wounds are far from being fatal. But you could use that pillow to suffocate yourself, if you want," she said helpfully.

He gave her a glare that could make saints fall on their knees in homage. The least she could have done was to move in closer and offer that sloping shoulder of hers to cry on... maybe a comforting kiss or two...

Whoever said that Gryffindors were noble and kind should've died a very painful death for being such a vile liar. They were worse than Slytherins, which was saying something.

At least a Slytherin would've offered anything for a chance to be this close to him!

"So," she asked casually, placing the spoon inside the bowl on her lap, "who did this to you?"

He waited several moments to pass. "Where's the love, Granger?" Draco asked quietly.

"The what?"

"We were supposed to be lovers, you know," he pointed out. "So where're all your concern? The tears? The declaration, 'I'll search everywhere to make your tormentors pay, my love!'"

Two bright spots of pink blossomed on her face, and Draco had to smile at the discomfort he was bringing her. "We are not lovers so I'm not-- I shouldn't--" Then her eyes widened, and he could almost see a light bulb flash above her head. "You're evading the question."

"Which was?"

"Who did this to you?" She looked frustrated.

"Are you going to make them pay?"

"I'll probably thank them," she snapped. "Then make them pay for not finishing you off."

Draco fished for her hand and clasped it tight. "My, what a delightfully concerned girlfriend I have. I suppose I should propose to you right this instant, then take you to my manor and make wild, passionate love to you on my bed." Huh. The image had its promise. He rubbed his thumb on her skin in slow, suggestive strokes, and winked charmingly.

Granger removed her hand from his, careful to not let the soup slosh at the sides. "Malfoy--"

"Did you heal me?" He noticed that his ribs didn't hurt that much. He awoke in pain, but now the pain was only a dull throb. It was still as uncomfortable as all hell but at least he could do without crying out for his mother.

Not that he ever wanted to cry out for his mother.

Umm...

"I performed some spells, and this soup's actually a potion. It should heal your internal injuries and you're being evasive again!"

"Granger--"

"Why won't you tell me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Because I know what you'd do afterwards."

"You d--"

"You'll go straight to Dumbledore and tell him what happened to me, and then what? I'll only disgrace myself, because I needed the Head Girl and the Headmaster for something I should've been able to handle. And just how do you think will that help the situation?"

She blinked at him, her mouth in a thin line. He could feel her desire to deny this statement but was unable to do so.

So, Draco was right in keeping her in the dark. Her knowing would only add insult to the injury for it was undoubtedly humiliating that he, of all people, would allow this to happen. What would she think of him, if she knew the truth? That Draco Malfoy was some low-life scum who couldn't defend himself well?

Granted, she might have already categorized him as such but still--

"It was Nott, wasn't it?"

"What made you think it was?"

"Because he's the only one who threatened us with physical violence."

"I have many enemies," Draco declared a little defensively. "Who are you to assume I've only one? It could've been Longbottom. I set him up with Millicent, you know. Or Potter and Weasley. They've been dying to get my throat for years. Or that sniveling kid in third year--"

"Damn it, Malfoy!"

She yelled. Really yelled. Any moment now his ears would bleed from all the yelling she'd done.

"This isn't a joke!" Granger said, beating the bed with both her balled fists. The soup, he thought frantically. Where was the-- "Do you think this is something that should be taken lightly? You could've been killed! If I haven't found you, you might have bled to death! You could've died, damn you, and you're reducing this into some sort of sick, horrible prank!"

Her face was filled with angry blotches of red, her lips were trembling and her eyes were suspiciously full and--and--was she crying? Hermione Granger crying over his miserable plight? Impossible! Just - plain - impossible!

But as Draco watched her furiously rub her eyes on her sleeves, he realized, with a deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he actually was the reason why she was crying.

That she was crying because he was almost killed.

That she was crying because--

Wait a minute.

Did that mean something?

"Come now, Granger," he began in a hesitant tone, reaching out to her with a hand, "it wasn't like I was stabbed or anything-- now don't get me wrong, I'm glad you care for me but--"

"Care for you?" At that, her eyes flashed angrily at him that for a moment he was afraid of her. Need he repeat that he was actually fragile, defenseless, helpless... "I don't care for you!" she cried hysterically.

And Draco felt as though he was doused with a bucketful of ice water. He assumed... no, he hoped that-- "Oh really?" he asked coldly, taking his hand away and balling it. "Then why are you affected by the thought of my death?"

"Because--because I might be next."

And Draco thought he was the selfish one in this pairing.

"I'm so flattered by your concern for me," he told her, moving his legs down the side of the bed and forcing himself up. "Thank you for taking me to your room for a chance to see me undressed. However, I--"

"What are you doing?" Granger grabbed his arm and pulled it down. "You have to rest--"

"No thank you. I don't stay where I'm not--"

"Oh cut it out! Lie down or I'm going to--"

"Don't threaten me!" he snapped, fully angry now. Draco twisted his arm free from her hold, and with all the strength he could muster glared down at her, trying his damnedest to ignore the trail of tears staining her cheeks. "I don't need your services, so I don't want you to tell me what to do. I don't need and I don't want you."

Her eyes were shooting sparks at him, but damn her, she was the reason for this whole mishap! Of all things Draco cherished in this world, it was his pride that he vowed he would solemnly protect. How dare this slip of a girl slap him with her not caring the least bit about him! It was the last straw. He'd almost been mauled to death. The least she could've given him was her sympathy! Or some scrap of it!

"I'm going to ask you to lie down one last time or I swear to God I'm going to tell Dumbledore what happened to you."

That stopped him in his tracks. Draco turned towards her in silent fury, finding her stoic in her stance. "You wouldn't dare."

"After all I've done to you, do you honestly think I'm not capable of pulling this one off?"

They engaged in a heated battle, both not wanting to lay back or retreat.

He could've happily strangled her for having the upper hand.

"You win." It pained him to say it, but some part of him admitted - even welcomed - defeat. If it meant lying on her bed, being tended to--"Don't get used to this," he growled, noticing the satisfied look on her face. "You can't win every damned time."

She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she assisted him

"I bet you just want to see me half-naked on your bed."

That effectively robbed her of the victory she so enjoyed. Ha! "Shut up."

"Care to join me?" He patted the space beside him.

Draco could actually see her efforts to restrain herself from hitting him. "You're disgusting."

He only smiled at that, and she turned her back on him and left the room.

His eyelids were drooping again, and just as he was midway to sleep Granger came in. "I talked to Flitwick earlier, while you were asleep," she announced, and Draco felt alarm bells ringing through him. Did she... "He said we don't have practice for the next few days so the professors could have enough time to prepare for the Ball."

"Is he mad?" Draco said, relieved that she didn't disclose his state to anyone. "I mean - the Ball's next week, and he's canceling practices?"

Granger shrugged. "He said we're good enough. And, anyway, in your condition do you think you can actually dance?"

"Wanna try?"

She rolled her eyes. "Rest, why don't you."

"Look for my wand, why don't I."

Granger huffed. "It'd be easier if you tell me what happened to you, you know. I can help you look for it."

"We've already discussed that--"

"I won't tell," she stressed.

"You may, or you may not. I wouldn't know. I don't trust you."

He caught the offended look that crossed her face. Take that, he thought. "I don't trust you either," she returned, "but that didn't stop me from taking care of you."

"You couldn't help it, anyway," he retorted, waving his hand. "You're so damn... nice. Why, I bet even if Voldemort appeared wounded on your doorstep you'll still feel obligated to help him out."

"That's not true! What makes you think--"

He yawned, and the expression on her face softened. It was wonderful, he thought, to actually be in the care of another person, to have another person looking out for him. To be cherished, valued, treasured by a person other than himself.

Damn it. He was becoming sentimental!

"Just sleep, Malfoy. I'll talk to you later." She smoothened away stray hair from his eyes.

Draco was already drifting off as he added, "Stay with me?"

And he felt her hand twine with his. "I'm here," she whispered.

And he slept.

The next time he woke up, he had no notion of time. Draco had no idea how long he'd been asleep or how long he'd been alone, or if his presence was missed by anyone. Ignoring the throbbing of certain parts of his anatomy (no, not there, thank you very much), he tried to get on his feet and walk. Remembering that he was half naked, he grabbed the sheet and placed it over him, then slowly resumed his journey towards the door.

"Granger?" he called loudly. "I'm going out." Draco flung the door open, thinking, if she tried to stop him--

Lo and behold.

"Mal--"

"--foy?"

Potter and Weasley stood at the doorway, Potter's hand drifting in mid-knock. They both wore dumbstruck expressions on their faces, looking like they've seen something bewildering. They both look stupid, Draco thought, not for the first, and certainly not for the last, time.

He frowned. What on earth could these two be gaping at?

He heeded the urge to clutch his sheet tighter, forming a protective cocoon around himself. Draco hoped to Merlin Potter and Weasley weren't staring at his exposed chest, because that would just be really queer.

The idea made him feel quite molested as well.

"Malfoy!" came Granger's voice from her room. "Where are you? I still need to put this lotion on--" And suddenly she was standing beside him, returning Potter and Weasley's gape with her own.

The crackling tension among the Golden Trio was so palpable Draco could taste it in his mouth.

It wasn't as satisfying as it should've been.

"Her--"

"--mi--"

"--o--"

"--ne?"

Really, syllabications are a thing of the past, Draco reflected, grimacing.

"What's the matter, haven't seen a half-naked guy emerge from a girl's--"

Oh.

OH!

So that's the reason the Gryffindors were looking at him and Granger like they were indecent and lewd. What else would Potter and Weasley get from the fact that here he was, half-naked and draped only in cloth, coming out of her room while she was saying something about lubricat-- err, lotion?

Granger looked flustered as she rushed to say, "I can explain--"

"We've seen enough." Potter's eyes glinted beneath his glasses, and his face was screwed.

"Why?" said Weasley, adopting the look of a wounded weasel. "Why, Hermione, why?" Judging from the way his hands shook, he was ready to wring them out.

"Come on, Ron," snapped Potter, fixing Granger a disgusted look. And he turned on his heel.

"Harry, Ron, please! I--"

Granger stopped, her hand hanging in mid-air as if reaching out for her so-called friends. Her lips trembled, her face paled and --

"Wait!"

Surprisingly, Potter and Weasley stopped, then turned to look back at Draco and Granger.

Surprisingly, it wasn't she who spoke.

Draco gritted his teeth and said, "It's not what you think. This," he gestured between him and Granger, "is not what you think."

So he had some knight-in-shining-armor-tendencies that only arose when the situation called for it.

Draco couldn't help it if he was born that way! So damn near perfect he could've been--

"Oh really?" asked Weasley, hands balled to fists. "And why should we believe you?"

Potter's gaze was challenging enough without him having to speak at all.

Draco rose to that challenge with the gallantry of a king. "You shouldn't," he said easily. "But believe her, stupid oafs. Tell me, when had she ever deceived the two of you? Seemed as though of all the people who deserved your trust, it's she who should have it the most."

"Malfoy--" Granger placed a hand on his arm but he shrugged it off.

"And besides," he continued, emitting a brash chuckle, "do you honestly think I will touch her? You must be mad!"

And Draco felt her stiffen beside him.

Potter and Weasley looked at each other - probably conferencing through look alone if they should continue being imbeciles or not - before glancing their way. "Then why--why are you--" Reduced to nothing but gestures, a green-faced Weasley pointed at Draco's current state of undress.

"Don't you like it, Ron? I placed it on just for you," Draco said in a perfect imitation of Pansy.

Weasley's pallor actually changed color, from green to red.

"Malfoy--" said Potter threateningly.

"All right, all right. Spoilsport." Draco heaved a sigh, then stepped aside to gesture towards the room. "Fine. I will tell you everything. In there, lads."

Granger opened her mouth to speak, then shut it tight.

Potter and Weasley started moving in, but Draco placed a hand before them and said, "My only condition is that you have to call Blaise and Pansy. What I have to say concerns them." It didn't, really, but he needed the time to stall, to think if he should really do this--

"Why?" asked Potter.

"Because I want us all to be friends," snapped Draco, glaring at him. "Just call them, damn it, or what I have to say remains a mystery 'til the day I die."

"Which is, what, two minutes from now if you don't tell us what you have to say?" said Weasley.

Draco gritted his teeth. "Call them," he said, "or I'll tell Pansy that you're her mysterious suitor."

Weasley's mouth dropped open until his lower lip touched the floor. "Wha--abba--dabba--"

"Come on, Ron," said Potter, pulling a still incoherent Weasley behind him. They hurried off, suspiciously knowledgeable of where to find the girls.

Draco wrapped the cloth around him tighter, but thought better than wearing it like a dress. "My clothes, if you please," he said.

Granger nodded and headed deeper in her room, only to reappear seconds later with his robe on her hands.

"Thank you," he said, slipping out of the sheets and into the robe.

Damn, but it felt good to be robed again.

"How did you know?" she asked.

He glanced at her, finding her face curious and attentive. "About Weasley and Pansy? Please. I only know of one person cheap enough to give Pansy muggle gifts."

Granger nodded, understanding and probably agreeing with him on the fact that Weasley was the poorest, cheapest bastard to ever grace their world.

Excluding Potter, that was.

Then, "Thank you," she said softly, not looking at him.

For a moment Draco was confused as to what she meant. Shouldn't he be the one thanking her? For finding him, nursing him, caring for him? Then he remembered. "It's fine. I just--I didn't want them to get the wrong impression about us."

Granger nodded stiffly. "Yes, you did sum up everything perfectly well."

Just then, Weasley, Potter, Pansy, and Blaise arrived, prohibiting Draco from inquiring about the sudden bitterness in Granger's voice as she spoke.

"What's this about?" asked Blaise loudly. "Is Granger ready to admit that she's in love with--Draco, my goodness!" She moved her gaze up and down his body in an uncomfortable manner that had both Granger and Potter frowning. "What happened to you? You just--disappeared."

"When did you last see me?"

"That was... I think yesterday. I haven't seen you this whole day, and well, I wondered--hey Pansy, didn't you just ask me this morning--Pansy? Pansy?"

They all looked at Pansy, who was chatting non-stop with Weasley. They seemed to exist in a world of their own, what with their ignorance on what was happening around them and all.

"PANSY!!!" Blaise shrieked.

"What?" asked Pansy, startled out of her wits.

"What? What?" Weasley parroted.

Potter looked impressed. "Good one, Blaise."

She batted her eyelashes prettily at him. "I've been learning from the best."

And they smiled at each other, apparently lost in their own world as well.

Draco had had enough. "For Merlin's sake, people! Can't we all concentrate on the most important subject at hand? Me?"

Pansy began tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. "What's this about, anyway, that you have to drag us all the way to--"

"I've been attacked," he stated dramatically.

Draco finally got the reaction he wanted: shock, pity, distress.

And also some reactions he wished he hadn't seen: joy, glee, happiness.

He glared at Potter and Weasley, who weren't looking contrite at wishing Draco death and destruction.

"You were attacked?" asked Pansy, clutching Weasley's hand, then dropping it as if burned.

"When?" asked Blaise, stepping closer to Potter.

"I--" Draco glanced at Granger again, finding her looking distraught. "Yesterday. I was attacked yesterday."

"Who attacked you?" Blaise asked.

Now this part of the story would be the most difficult for them to swallow. "I can't tell you."

"What?" cried Granger. "What do you mean--"

"Why can't you tell us?" asked Blaise.

"Are you protecting them?" asked Pansy.

Weasley looked sick. "You Slytherins and your twisted sense of--"

"I can't tell you," said Draco, grimacing as he said it, "because I've been put under a spell by those bastards. I can only remember what they did to me but I can't tell anyone who they are."

Potter didn't speak for a moment, just looked at him through poor, maltreated eyes.

"But--but that's stupid," said Weasley stupidly. "I mean, I've never heard of a spell like--"

"I have," said Granger, speaking through thin lips. Her stare bore holes through Draco. "I read about that spell. It happened before, in 1900 when a witch named Martha--"

"Tell us what happened before you were attacked," said Potter.

Draco was a bit surprised about the vehemence in Potter's voice when he spoke. "I was on my way to the Hufflepuff Room - I heard they had an enchanted blanket able to show Quidditch Games--"

"--like a telly. Go on," urged Potter.

Draco had no idea what a telly was, so he ignored Potter. "So, yes, Quidditch Games. I intend to confiscate it, because as per our rulebook I can actually do that and claim it's prohibited on school grounds--"

"But it's not," Granger cut in.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, they don't know that. Anyway, I was about to get it, but damn it, McClelland was stupid enough to lose that Snitch during the third hour of the game and--"

"I know!" interjected Weasley. "Didn't he see it hovering in front of him? He could've just reached out and--"

"He could've won the Chudley Cannons the cup for this year, but he lost it so badly I doubt they'll ever let him play again," contributed Potter.

Draco nodded. "The bastard deserves it, anyway. But who will they get in place of McClelland? Tullen?"

Potter shook his head. "He's too fat."

Weasley chuckled. "He'll probably land on his arse before he gets off the--"

"AHEM!" said Granger. "I do believe we were in the middle of something else before Quidditch?"

Draco, Potter, and Weasley exchanged glances, as though they could never quite believe they had a semi-civil conversation with each other. "So, yes, as I was saying - I came out from the Hufflepuff Room carrying that blanket and... I got attacked."

"Don't you think their primary motive was to steal the blanket from you? Because when I saw you, the blanket wasn't anywhere in sight."

"You saw him the night he was attacked?" inquired Weasley.

Granger hesitated, then nodded. "I did."

"That's the reason I'm in here, half-naked and all," said Draco. "She helped me. She healed me. That's what happened."

His reward for this was the disappearance of distrust on Potter and Weasley's faces as they looked at Granger, as well as the rush of relief on her face as she smiled.

"I... I don't believe it," said Pansy in a trembling voice.

Draco nodded. "I know. Horrible, isn't it, that someone would actually want to--"

Pansy shook her head. "No, no. I mean I don't believe you'd--" She pointed a finger at him. "You're lying."

"What?" said Granger. "Why are you accusing him of lying? Didn't he just say--"

"Oh quit defending him, he isn't worth it," said Pansy, glaring at Draco. "You're lying," she repeated.

"Pansy--"

"You used the exact same reasoning on me two years ago, don't you remember? You told me something about that curse causing a permanent blocking of the memory and, and--well, I don't really remember the specifics but what I do remember is that when I was finally on to you, you admitted that that spell doesn't exist anymore because no one knows how to cast it nowadays." She raised her chin. "Deny it. Go on, then, I dare you. Tell me - tell us - that you're saying the truth this time."

Weasley looked impressed. "Wow."

Damn it. He actually forgot about Pansy knowing all his tricks. What was he thinking, inviting her over! He shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot, to get you all off my back." Draco glanced at Granger - she looked pale, and based from the way her knuckles whitened she wanted to slug him again. "All right, fine. Nott and his cronies beat me up. Satisfied?"

"Very," said Potter and Weasley at the same time.

"Nott?" Blaise repeated, blinking. "As in Theodore Nott?"

"Do you know any other Nott studying in Hogwarts?" Draco shot back.

"But... why?"

Draco shrugged again. "Something about the bet--" he risked a look at Granger again--"we did before where he lost. He was itching to get revenge on me, and he did so yesterday."

Weasley looked wistful. "A pity they didn't finish you off."

"Could've done us all a favor," added Potter.

"Or saved someone from murdering you in the future," Weasley stated.

"Maybe the reason I'm still alive is because I'm destined to kick your arses to kingdom come," Draco snapped. "Bastards."

"So what're you going to do now?" asked Pansy.

"Well, one thing he won't do is tell Dumbledore, that's for sure," said Granger in a sour tone.

"Granger--"

"Right," said Weasley, nodding. "Because that'll just rob you of a chance to get your vengeance on Nott."

Draco looked at him in surprise. That was precisely the reason why he didn't want Dumbledore to know! "Well, Weasley, that's--"

"--stupid," reiterated Granger. "Very stupid idea indeed. I mean, what is it about asking someone else for help that drives men up the wall? It also takes strength to admit one is weak, you know."

He glared at her. "I'm not weak. How dare you accuse me of being weak!"

Blaise nudged Potter gently. "See, I told these two are in lov--"

"SHUT UP!!!" Draco and Granger said in unison.

Pansy pursed her lips. "You still haven't told us what you've got planned for Nott, Draco."

"I haven't thought of one yet," he answered truthfully, "but I swear on my last breath that he won't get away with this."

"So basically you just had us all gathered here for nothing," said Potter mockingly, wearing a mocking smile on his mocking face. "You've got no plan, no scheme, no--"

Insulted, Draco turned his glacial glare on the annoying bastard. "Don't be too complacent," he said savagely. "You see, Nott didn't only threaten me, but he also threatened her." He pointed at Granger. "And since he already carried out his threat on me--"

Potter and Weasley straightened themselves, sending alarmed looks at each other, then at Granger.

"Great," said Granger bitterly. "Now you've just given me two bloody guards."

"It's for your own safety," Draco told her. "I won't let any harm get to you." He gestured at Potter and Weasley. "As for them, well, one can only hope they get beaten up in the process, but--"

"Hey!" shrieked Pansy and Blaise at the same time.

"We have got to do something about this," proposed Weasley. "Technically, Gryffindors owed Nott a lot for doing something most of us were dying to do for the last seven years but--"

"Your point?" snapped Draco.

"Ro--I mean, Weasley's right," Pansy said, reddening a bit. "Nott should be punished for doing this to you, Draco."

"We also have to make sure he wouldn't hurt Hermione," added Potter, sending Granger a concerned look. "That's more important than petty revenge."

Draco rubbed his chin, silently agreeing with Potter on that one. "I know you're all visualizing Nott in a bloody tangled mess, and believe me I want nothing less than that, but as of now I've got no clue as to how to get the bloody bastard."

"Then you're in luck," said Blaise, grinning. "Because I have a plan."

Author's Notes: *waves hand timidly in the air* Umm... hi, guys! Hopefully you haven't sharpened your knives and hunting gears yet... ;) Anyways, thank you for reading and reviewing - I've had a very tough month, what with the final exams and all - but hearing you enjoy my stuff really takes the stress off me. So... thanks! And I'll see you next chapter! And have a Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year, in case I won't be able to post anything new by then ;p