Divine Humiliation

Divine Humiliation

...something completely different comes this way again...

"What are we going to do, again?"

Harry scowled at Ron. "It's a bit simple, really. Blaise and I will do that spell with--" He leaned to whisper something in Ron's ear. "Then you and Parkinson will--" More whispers. "And last, with Nott... well, you know... Malfoy and Hermione will do--" Whispers. "There. That's the plan." He grinned, completely satisfied with himself. "Brilliant, isn't it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh come off it, Harry. Just because Zabini came up with that plan doesn't mean it's--"

"Yes?" Harry said, a bit testy.

"Nothing." Ron glanced at the empty hallway, saw Snape slinking to one corner, frowned, and then turned to Harry. "Remind me not to get on her bad side, all right? That girl's a bit scary."

"I say she's brilliant."

Ron snorted. "And I say you're redundant."

Harry quickly shot back with, "And I say Parkinson's--"

"Yes?" Ron said, a bit crossly.

The door opened, causing both boys to stand straighter and cease their chatting.

"Morning, Hermione," greeted Harry, sending Ron a look that said: she's in one of her moods again.

"Lovely morning isn't it," said Ron, acknowledging the look with a nod and moving away from the wall. "All bright and sunshiny and warm--"

Hermione closed the door behind her with a huff. "Easy for you to say," she said, glaring at them. "You don't have two friends flanking your feet every hour of every day for the last five days!"

"We're not flanking your feet," denied Harry immediately. He shot Ron a look.

"Harry's right, Hermione. We're... merely here to... you know, watch your movements."

She turned wary eyes on Ron. "Because I'm so incapable of watching them myself?"

"Ye--no! No! Ow, Harry, that hurt!" said Ron, rubbing the spot on his arm where Harry elbowed him.

"Why thank you Ronald. You're just too sweet," Hermione pushed the words through clenched teeth. Honestly, this was getting tiresome. Contrary to popular belief she didn't need these two boys by her side at all times! Aside from the embarrassment it caused - imagine having two bodyguards outside the girls' bathroom whenever she needed to use it! - Hermione also thought how guarding her completely disrupted their routines. But were Harry and Ron even bothered by it? Nooo. She inwardly believed they rather enjoyed their roles immensely. Thank you, Malfoy, for bringing out their protector-of-the-innocent complex, she thought darkly, clenching her fists. She never really did enjoy the damsel-in-distress character she was forced to assume because first, she was not helpless, and second-- she was no freakin' damsel! Oh, if only I could knock some sense into three thickheaded--

"So, Hermione..." Harry gave her a wolfish smile, clearly steering the conversation to a safer topic, "what do you say about the plan? Isn't it--"

"Brilliant?" Ron cut in, mimicking Harry's voice. He then snorted when Harry aimed at him a deadly glare. "Right, like that wasn't what you're going to say."

"It's a fine plan, I guess," answered Hermione, leading the way towards the Great Hall. "It'll have to do since we haven't thought of one."

"Remind me why we have to do this, again," said Ron, looking eager as he spoke.

"Well--"

But Ron didn't wait for Harry to continue. "You know what I think? I think it's a bit, oh I don't know, insane, that we get to go with a Slytherin's scheme. I mean, what do we know? We're talking about Malfoy here: Slytherin git, certified bastard, pain in our collective--"

"Get to the point," snapped Hermione.

"How do we know he's not just using us to get Nott?"

"Blaise and Parkinson's included in this as well," retorted Harry, frowning as he looked at Ron. "Are you saying that Malfoy's also using them?"

"Well--" In this, Ron lost some of his confidence. "What if--what if this is some elaborate plan of theirs to make fools out of us, huh? Ever thought of that?"

Hermione's hand wobbled just as she was reaching for the door. She sent Ron a sharp look - he had just unknowingly voiced out her biggest fear.

What if everything I've seen and heard is part of a prank intended to ruin me for good? She couldn't help hearing her voice - her practical, intelligent voice - holler the words over and over again. Hermione had thought of all the scenarios that gave her cause to doubt Malfoy; after all, she had every right in the world to be wary of him. How many times had he used that innocent, needing look of his to make her fall into his scheme? And fall she did. He'd done it before. How could she be sure he wasn't fooling her with this one as well?

The wounds, she thought, wincing as she did. They're--they're real. And no, none of that pathetic cutting-myself-because-I-want-to-feel-and-I'm-addicted-to-seeing-myself-bleeding crap. Hermione had seen for herself that the wounds she treated weren't caused by anything sharp or jagged. They were the results of a severe beating, and she doubted Malfoy was that desperate to have him employ his cronies to beat the hell out of him just for the sake of petty revenge.

It must be real. All of it. He must be telling the truth.

"Then we just have to prepare for that," she said easily, her voice betraying none of her inner turmoil. And I will.

Inside the Great Hall, Draco drummed his fingers against the table, scowling darkly at the pile of food in front of him. His eyes strayed towards the Gryffindor table - and upon seeing that the object of his search was nowhere to be found, he pushed his plate away, and waited.

And waited.

And... waited.

WHERE IS SHE!!! wailed his overdramatic inner Potter.

"Draco?"

Pansy almost jumped when he fixed on her a look of pure menace. She exchanged glances with Blaise, who was looking down at Draco with amusement on her face.

"In one of your psychotic moods again, I see."

He glared at Blaise. "What?"

"We're leaving," Pansy said, covering for Blaise's outburst. How she hated it when Draco was in this sort of temper! He'd be so irritable and angry and that look on his face expressed his fierce desire to burn everything in his path and kill anyone who dare thwart him from doing it. Of all the faces of Draco Malfoy that existed - and she knew plenty did - Psychotic!Draco was the one she liked the least.

"Then leave."

"But... you're alone."

A glance around the Slytherin table proved it.

"I'm fine. Just go."

"You know..." Blaise placed a hand on his shoulder, "there's no need to be all two-words-then-period with us. Don't worry, Draco. She's fine. Harry and Weasley are doing their part in this. They're guarding her."

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Too much, I'll say."

"You're just jealous," sneered Blaise.

"Back off, Zabini," Pansy spat, shooting her a murderous look.

"Yep," said Blaise cheerfully, "she's jealous."

"I'll wait," Draco snapped, still drumming his fingers soundly on the table. "Leave me."

"Remember the part where I said 'two-words-then-period'?" Blaise pointed at his face. "Doing it again!"

"Are you sure?" asked Pansy. "I mean, if you want--"

Draco glared at her. "Don't be concerned. You're a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake - you shouldn't exhibit any type of emotion."

"HA!!!" Blaise started heatedly, earning surprised looks from Draco and Pansy. "That's just the stereotype I despise the most!!! I mean, Slytherins or not we have feelings, and--"

"Come on Blaise, let's go!"

"--how dare people out there categorize us as having no feelings whatsoever!!! Of all the hypocritical, biased, unfair--"

And Pansy all but dragged a sputtering Blaise out of the Great Hall.

He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to acknowledge Blaise's words, but in truth he was a bit... nervous. The plan was already in progress - hell, it took them five days to prepare for it, mostly for the potion they brewed - but they haven't covered all the possibilities yet. Even if the plan was relatively simple, something could still go wrong -- and working with incompetent buffoons like Potter and Weasley would guarantee it! And that's why he was nervous, for if the plan was to fail then--

A familiar bushiness appeared on the door, and Draco almost sighed in relief - until he realized that she was alone.

ALONE. A word that, by definition, wasn't something he'd like to use to describe her.

He pushed himself up and strode towards her.

"Where are the incompetent buffoons?" he demanded, scrutinizing her looks in the process. No, she didn't seem hurt or dragged into someplace or anything--

That appeased him.

Hermione blinked, startled by his sudden appearance. "The--what?"

Impatience colored his tone as he said, "Potter and Weasley, Granger. Didn't I tell them to--"

"Oh. Oh!" She glared at him readily. "To start off, they're not incompetent buffoons and how dare you--"

"Where're they?"

"We met Parkinson and Zabini on the way," she answered, walking towards the Gryffindor table. "I told Harry and Ron to go with them since they all seemed eager to get this thing done and over with." Not to mention her friends suddenly came up with lame excuses to leave her side and join the Slytherins, but she wasn't telling him that. "I'm here, I'm safe, now go away."

She took her usual seat at the near-empty Gryffindor table, and expected Draco to leave her side immediately - but to her horror she found him claiming Ron's place beside her. "Wha--what're you doing?" she whispered.

Ignoring the curious stares they were receiving - mostly from the nosier, womanly half of the Hogwarts population - Draco shrugged and reached for an apple. "Isn't it obvious? I'm eating."

"Here?" Hermione felt her cheeks redden. Yes, she was painfully aware that everyone knew them to be a couple, but--"Do you have to eat here?" she elaborated, taking some fruits and piling them high on her plate. "Isn't this against your principles? Doesn't this degrade you in some way?"

Draco nodded curtly - three times - irking her more with his silence. Taking his wand out, he pointed it at the Slytherin table and made his food float towards him. "What's the matter?" he asked, reaching out to keep her mug from overflowing. She was too busy gawking at his actions that she'd forgotten she was pouring pumpkin juice for herself. "We ate together before."

Hermione could only remember too vividly. "But--"

"You should eat as much as you can, you know. You'll need your energy for you-know-what."

"The--" Oh, yes. The plan. "Right."

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she felt self-conscious and ill at ease with what she was doing, but thanks to Draco sodding Malfoy - she was experiencing it. There was just something... wrong... with him sitting beside her and doing something normal like eating. And damn it, she couldn't help herself: she watched him. As he moved, as he ate, as he sat there perfectly content and quiet while he wreaked havoc on her senses at the same time--

It took all her strength not to pin his hand to the table with her fork.

Draco could feel the tension draining away from him, and even his appetite returned to normal. He kept himself from glancing at her - the tattletale way she was holding her fork meant she was imagining dreadful things she could do to him with it - and instead busied himself with eating. He didn't care that he was causing another ruckus with what he pulled off; at least this one would keep the gossip centered on him.

After all, he wasn't one to deny himself the pleasure of being on the spotlight. Brilliant, Draco! A few more like this one and by tomorrow no one will even remember that one Harry sodding Potter existed in this school. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. So, what's next, huh? Hmm... snog-a-thon, perhaps? Wonder if Granger's up for it...

As he was to blurt out his intention, he looked up - and surprise, surprise, Draco saw Nott striding in, curiously alone.

He was about to tell Hermione that, but from the way she grabbed his arm he knew she already spotted their common enemy.

And just as quickly, she withdrew her hand. "Sorry," she mumbled.

It was at this point that Nott found them, a smile on his sickeningly ugly face as he strutted towards them. "Well, well, well," he said loudly, lifting a foot and stepping on one of the Gryffindor seats, "here we have the Golden Couple. I'm surprised you two aren't yet attached at the hip, with the time you spend together - both in and out of the bedroom."

Hermione could just hear the chairs scoot closer to them. It took a lot to control the blush that she could feel creeping on every part of her body, and to keep her eyes firmly glued at Nott.

The ponce fixed Draco a meaningful look. "How've you been lately, Draco? You seem ... a bit pale for the last few days. Something you encountered along the way, perhaps?"

Draco smirked in response. He knew - and Nott also knew - that he couldn't publicly admit his recent beating. It was a pride thing, pure and simple. "I'm feeling very well, thank you," he replied, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing it. The rigid way her fingers responded told him she was surprised at this stunt. "I've no troubles whatsoever, since I asked my darling Hermione's help with the last one. We've already fixed it."

"Did you, now?" Nott asked, smiling nastily. "Did you really?"

Hermione couldn't help the amount of bitter loathing she felt for this vile being. "Do you have something else you need from us, Theodore?" she asked, her voice saccharine-sweet. "We were just eating. Perhaps you'd care to join us?"

Nott glared at her, before mouthing, "Mudblood."

Hermione's laughter rang loud and clear, a stark noise in the suddenly silent atmosphere of the Great Hall. "No sense of originality, I see."

Draco grinned. "I'm afraid he has none, ever since." He stood and patted Nott's shoulder. "Pray, Theodore. Pray very hard and maybe someday you'll grow a pair."

"Or a spine," Hermione added cheerfully, raising her voice a bit for the benefit of those listening. "But, you know, it might be too late for that."

More than a few students snickered.

Nott all but hissed at them before slinking away.

"Bastard," she muttered, glaring at his back.

"Well," said Draco, easing on his chair and into a lighter mood, "that was fun. As Salazar would say, 'nothing perks a day faster than making someone's morning a living hell'."

She raised a brow at him. "Slytherin motto?"

He coughed. "Slytherin mandate, actually."

Hermione grinned. "Huh," she muttered. And her demeanor turned serious. "So, did you--"

"I did," said Draco. "He'd definitely be a good, obedient boy and taking a trip to the Forbidden Forest later this afternoon. And, if I have my say - which I always do - it'll be his last."

"You're a vicious, cold-blooded, nasty--"

"Yes, Hermione. I love you too."

And the way she attacked the fruit on her plate with her fork made him think she was thinking it was him she was attacking.

Ah yes, he thought brightly. Salazar would've been proud.

Pansy and Ron bid their goodbyes to Blaise and Harry and made a slow progress towards the dungeons. Snape intercepted them on the hallway and requested - ordered, Ron thought in disgust - for last minute adjustments to the potion they were making. The oily git allowed no rooms for excuses, and demanded their presence immediately.

Ron still despised the professor with all his being, and would pay with his last Knut to see him gutted in public, but at that moment he felt nothing but gratitude towards him. Gratitude - because, after all, time alone was what he really needed to do... his thing.

"So," he started, shoving his hands in his pockets, "the ball is in three days, huh."

She fixed him a look. "So?"

"Well..." He chuckled, and then halted. "It's funny, because the Ball's... the Ball's in three days."

Pansy noticed that, as usual, he was red in the face. It would've been fetching, really, if the poor boy only knew how to express himself. "Get to the point, Weasley."

"Do you, uhh--" At this point, he shuffled his feet. "Do you... well, what I mean to say is, do you--"

Just say it already! "Do I what?" she asked, trying hard not to sound too interested. Or too hopeful.

"D-d-date," he said low.

Pansy's eyes widened considerably. "Date?"

Ron mumbled incoherently.

"What?"

"Ball!"

"Let me get this straight," said Pansy, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a cool stare, "are you asking me if... if I have a date to the Ball?"

Ron mumbled again.

"WEASLEY!" she cried, short of stomping her foot in frustration. "Just spit it out already! Or are you too much of a coward to actually--"

"Who're you calling a coward?" demanded Ron, finally forming a coherent sentence.

"You! I'm calling you a coward! You're a coward because you don't have the balls to ask me to the Ball!"

"Tha--wha--that's--"

"And you're a Gryffindor! Now there's an irony if I ever--why are you laughing?"

"What made you think I'm asking you to the Ball?"

In this, Pansy's fair cheeks reddened. "So... you're... not...?"

Ron noticed the drastic change in her expression, and said hastily, "Well, now that you've mentioned it--"

Her lip curled in distaste. How dare this poor, filthy plebian... this, this mongrel... raise her hopes then dash it just as quick! Who does he think he is, playing with me like that! She flipped her hair nonchalantly. "I'm just making it clear," she said haughtily. "Actually, it's good that you're not asking me, because then you're saved from painful rejection. I happen to have a date already."

"A... date?" Ron parroted, raising his voice. "A date? You have a date?"

"Yes," she hissed. "Yes I do."

"And who--just who--will that be?" Ron asked, fighting the urge to shake her senseless. If he knew who that bastard was, why, he ought to--

"None of your business, Weasley." Pansy all but spat the words out. She marched towards the Potions room in a flurry of Muggle robes and spite.

He balled his palms to fists, glaring at her back. "You know what I think? I think you're only inventing this--this--whoever this date of yours is! You don't have anyone yet, do you? Admit it!"

Pansy whirled on him, a brilliant flash of anger in her eyes. "How dare you!" she snarled, stomping her foot. "You filthy--little--how dare you! Invent a date, you say! And why, pray tell, would I do that?"

"You want to make me jealous, that's what!"

She breathed deeply, trying very hard not to claw his eyes out. "You flatter yourself, Ronald," she whispered. "If you must know, my date is none other than my secret admirer, the one giving me gifts all this time! Unlike you, he's generous, he's thoughtful, he's sweet and adorable--and, unlike you, he's to be my date!"

"Gifts?" repeated Ron. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth - that he was her phantom suitor - but he really wanted to catch her on her lie first. Pride thing, pure and simple. "So are you saying that you... you know who this admirer of yours is?"

Pansy inhaled sharply. "Yes," she lied. "In fact, he was the one who asked me."

At that, Ron's eyes widened in shock. "You--you've met him?"

"Yes!"

"But--but how? I mean, I haven't--"

"What're you talking about?" she demanded. "What, you're going to accuse me of inventing our meeting as well? Do you want details? Is that what you want?"

"I don't--"

"I'll have you know that we met near the Forbidden Forest not two days ago, and he's a seventh year like us. He--he wore a red robe that complemented his--"

"That's enough," said Ron, his voice hoarse.

But Pansy, being a true Slytherin, didn't stop. "--gorgeous red hair and, and when he smiled his blue eyes just--"

"I said, that's enough!"

She said nothing to his outburst, only looked at him with wary eyes.

"You--you tell Snape I'm not feeling well," he said in a low voice, starting to move away. True to his word, he looked sick, pale and sweating. "I--I have to--"

"Weasley... Ron..."

But he'd already left.

Harry watched, with a mildly interested expression, as Ron left Pansy in haste. She looked stupefied and stricken, and for a moment acted as though she meant to follow him - but decided against it at the last minute.

"I don't get it," Harry mumbled, watching as the Slytherin dejectedly headed towards the Potions classroom by herself. "I mean, why won't Ron admit to Parkinson that he's her admirer?"

At that, Blaise turned to him, a grand smile adorning her face. "You mean, all this time, Weasley's--that's brilliant, Harry! Of course! Why haven't I thought of that?" She clutched at his arm. "How long have you known?"

Harry debated on telling the truth or a lie - but seeing the way Blaise was looking at him, decided that the truth would be better. "Actually, I only found out when Malfoy threatened to use it against Ron," he said. As her adoring expression lessened, he defended, "Well, believe it or not Ron was pretty good with hiding it. Even Hermione hadn't figured it out." Or if she did, she never told me anything, he thought.

Blaise released his arm and clapped. "Oh, I can hardly believe it!" she gushed. "Everything's so wildly romantic!"

He snorted. "You call that scene romantic? All that screaming and--"

She stopped short. "Well--yes, if you take out all the pretenses and drama." Then Blaise grinned. "Wait 'til Pansy hears this! That girl's going to--"

"Surely you're not going to tell her yourself, are you? Ron's--"

Her eyes widened. "No! Of course not. I'm not going to steal Weasley's thunder, if that's what you're worried about. Let Pansy find it out herself, at the Ball. It's more... romantic that way." Then, her lips thinned. "And people say we Slytherins don't have feelings." She snorted. "What bullsh--"

Harry suddenly cleared his throat. "Speaking of the Ball..."

Blaise batted her lashes prettily at him. "Yes?"

"Do you... I mean, have you thought of... Ahem! Have you already... to the Ball, that is..."

She sighed, then placed both her hands on his shoulders. "This is difficult for you, isn't it?"

He grinned awkwardly. "More than you can ever imagine."

"Well, this time you won't have to be the hero. I'll save you." Blaise winked at him, and in the sternest, proudest voice she could muster, said, "Harry Potter, will you be my date to the Ball?"

Harry pretended to think long and hard, and just as Blaise was about to hit him he laughed and said, "Why yes, Blaise Zabini. I'll be delighted to accompany you to the Ball."

She impulsively hugged him. "Wicked!" she cried, releasing him in an instant. A blush resided in her cheeks firmly as she said, "Well now, this will surely shock poor McGonagall. Us going to the ball together, I mean, since you had her write that restraining order for me."

"Actually--" Harry stepped away from her instinctively, "McGonagall didn't write that. I did." As long as he was being honest with her, then he might as well tell her the truth about this one, too!

The smile on her face disappeared. "What?"

Now Harry saw the mistake in that. "Well, you have to understand, in those days I would've done everything to keep you away from me," he admitted, lifting his arms to illustrate his point. "BUT!" he cut in, when he saw her mouth open, "But, you know, I'm very--VERY--happy you disregarded it."

"Disregarded it?" Blaise's expression turned quickly from shock to furious. "Disregarded it? I cried over that note, you liar!!!"

"You... did?" Harry's expression softened. "Blaise--"

"I'll give you something to cry about, Harry Potter!!! I'll show you!!!" With a war howl, she launched herself at him. Harry was quick enough to dodge her attack, laughing as he did. Blaise, grinning evilly, lunged at him again, and thus started a chase around Hogwarts Grounds that lasted until hours later, when both of them were to drop dead due to exhaustion.

The minutes went by quickly. Too quickly, in Hermione's opinion, that it was hard to believe she and Malfoy had already gone through breakfast, met with Dumbledore, finished lunch, and was now on their way to every Professor involved in preparing for the Graduation Ball.

If this had happened days before, Hermione knew that either one of them would've been ready to slit the other's throat, if given the slightest provocation. All this time with him would've driven her to think that spending the rest of her life in Azkaban was nothing compared to the triumph of killing Draco Malfoy, and she had no qualms he felt the same way.

But now... all this time with him and here she was, having the best moments of her life.

That was just plain wrong.

There goes my practical voice again, she mused. But, as what was becoming habitual already, it went by unheeded.

"What did that loony Trelawney say?" Draco asked as they walked towards the Potions classroom. "'I have foreseen your coming together even before you were born! It was written in the teacups of your destinies, dearies!" He imitated the teacher's intonation to a fault that had Hermione laughing unabashedly. At the end of his charade, he was chuckling, too. "What was that all about? Don't tell me prophesies about us existed!" Then he reconsidered his words. "Well of course prophesies about me existed, seeing as I am such an important figure in this world but--"

"Shush!" said Hermione, hitting him on the arm. "I've always thought Divinations was nothing but an extremely eccentric subject. And seeing her when I did, well - that confirmed it."

"I heard you walked out of her class."

Surprised, she glanced at him. "Did you now?" Hermione asked, mimicking Nott's tone. "Did you really?"

Draco smirked. "Believe me, that sort of stunt pulled by one of the Golden Trio wasn't taken lightly. Before I knew it, most of my housemates were already betting on who was next to do something... audacious."

"And were you involved in it?"

He waved a hand dismissively in the air. "I'm above those types of bets." Then Draco grinned. "But I was tempted. The stakes then were very high."

Hermione peered at him curiously. "Really?" Then, she caught herself. "I'm almost afraid to ask what 'thing' the Slytherins betted on that Ron or Harry would do."

"Most of us were disappointed when it didn't happen, but..." Draco's eyes positively glimmered evil. "They betted that either Weasley or Potter would announce that he's gay, had a relationship with the other, and used you as a front. The bet was between who'd do it."

At her shocked expression, he laughed outright. "They didn't!" she exclaimed, stunned. People thought Harry and Ron were gay? How odd was that!

"Of course they did," Draco said easily. "We're Slytherins, Granger - we might not have real feelings but we do know how to have fun at other people's expense!" He sounded oddly defensive.

"Don't I know it." But the glare she sent him was playful, and the punch she gave him teasing.

At last, they arrived at the Potions classroom. "Say, do you know what Ron and Parkinson are up to? All that time they spent with Snape is a bit - well, alarming."

He lifted a brow at her. "Imagining naughty things, haven't you?"

She colored. "Of course not! Why you--"

The door opened without anyone knocking, and out stepped Snape. "Yes?" he demanded, looking at Draco in favor and Hermione in dislike. "Is there something you need?"

Hermione immediately took out the note that Dumbledore had earlier given them. "Professor Dumbledore had instructed that you should--"

"I assure you that I can read perfectly well, Miss Granger," he stated, glaring at her through beady slits he called eyes.

"I've told her hundreds of times, Professor," mumbled Draco meekly. "She wouldn't listen."

Hermione gawked at Draco, who was smirking at her in return. Oh, he was just--

"Something all Gryffindors do, no doubt." Snape took a quill out of his robes, checked something, then handed it to Hermione. Just as she was to reach it, he angled it away from her so now he was handing it to Draco. "I trust this would go to the Headmaster's hands unread?"

"Yes, sir," said Draco solemnly.

"Be that as it may..." Snape's beady eyes traveled to Hermione. "I placed a charm on it so that no one else would be able to read it."

"Yes," Hermione all but spat. "Sir."

Then Snape walked back in the room and closed the door behind him with a snap.

"Oh honestly!" she exclaimed, shooting angry glares at the room. "As if I'd read it!"

But Draco was already scanning through the letter with interest. When he caught her gaping at him, he neatly folded it and tucked it in his palm. "Come on, to the Headmaster we go."

"But you--you read it!"

"Of course I did." He sounded affronted.

"But--but Snape said--"

"Who cares what Snape said? I read it and discovered some important matters that I know you're just dying to pry from me."

"I am not," she said vehemently. But he was right - curiosity was brimming in her.

Damn it! Damn him!

"Don't lie, Granger," Draco said smoothly. "Keep glancing at the note and I might just tuck it someplace you'd be embarrassed to gawk at in public."

"And where would that be, I wonder?"

Wearing a naughty - there was just no other word for it - smile on his face, Draco moved the note towards the waistband of his trousers.

Hermione looked away, fire raging on her cheeks. She just had to walk in on that one! Disgusting - vile - evil -

"Hello, Weasley." Draco's voice dripped like poisoned honey.

"Hermione," said Ron, ignoring the other's presence completely, "are you okay? You look - flushed."

She glared at Draco before answering, "I'm fine."

"Say, Ron, you did manage to cram in that little space you call a brain that it's almost time for the plan to start, didn't you?"

Ron barely managed without wiping that disgusting smirk off that disgusting Slytherin's face. "Sod off, Malfoy. If you must know, I'm to pick up Parkinson." He lifted the object he held in his hands. "And what do you think this is for, if not for your precious plan?"

Hermione frowned at him. "Picking up Parkinson? Where?"

"Potions. Snape said something about--" Then he caught himself. The project was still a secret. "--about that thing we were working on. I didn't feel too good so she went alone."

"Had some lover's spat, Weasley?"

"Sod off!"

As if sensing his discomfort, Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "We'll talk later, okay? Malfoy's right - we should begin in a few minutes."

Ron mumbled something that sounded like, "Okay."

"See you," she said. But it fell on deaf ears, as Ron was already walking towards the Potions classroom like a convict being led to the gallows.

"Do you have to do that?" snapped Draco.

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Nothing." And he all but ran towards the Headmaster's office, both his palms balled to fists, the note probably crumpled to oblivion.

Hermione had no choice but to follow him, thinking, what's his problem?

Pansy cast a cleaning spell on herself to remove traces of the solution she worked on. Satisfied that no residue stuck to her Muggle robe, she stepped out of the room - and beheld the person who occupied most her thoughts and made her bungle her way through the project.

"Hey," he said cautiously.

She inched her chin upwards. "Why are you here? I thought you're sick?"

"I am - I mean, I was," he said. Ron glanced at the door behind her. "What did you tell Snape?"

"That the reason you weren't here was because I gutted you and fed your entrails to Mrs. Norris," she retorted without skipping a beat. "Oddly enough, he bought it."

"I'm sure he would've celebrated if that truly happened, the oily git."

"Yeah, well if that really happened then I would've celebrated too," Pansy snapped.

Ron started to look angry, but instead blew a loud breath out. "Listen. I'm sorry if I were such an arse earlier - I mean, I know I don't have a say if you've got a date or not because we're--we're not--" His ears purpled. "You know."

"I do," she whispered.

"Umm..." At this, Ron moved the big bunch of red roses towards her. "Here."

"For me?" In an instant Pansy melted and smiled at him as she reached for the flowers. "Oh. Thank y--"

"No, they're for Nott!" he exclaimed. "The plan, remember?"

For the second time that day, Pansy wanted to find a hole in the ground and bury herself in it. "Augh!" she howled. "Ronald Weasley! You are such a complete--arrogant--filthy--mongrel!" And with that, she stormed off.

"What?" Ron cried, completely stupefied and stricken at her reaction. "What did I do? Parkinson!" And he followed her out.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Hogwarts Blaise screwed her face at her reflection. "This," she said, meeting gray eyes at the mirror, "is a color that I know will never look good on me. How you Gryffindors pull it off, I can only wonder." She sighed reverently. "Merlin bless the Sorting Hat - at least it knew green suits me the best."

Harry scowled as well. "At least you don't get to have this face on. Looking at it just makes me want to hit myself."

"Kinky." She grinned, then frowned at her image. "Don't even get me started on this." Blaise pointed at her hair. "What a disaster! Don't any of you Gryffindors know the basics of proper hygiene and good grooming?"

His face darkened even more. "What? What's wrong?"

Blaise swiveled to face him. "Dearie, the only reason you don't see the problem's because you have the same one. But don't worry - sooner or later I'll find a solution for you." She gritted her teeth at the mirror. "For the-well-groomed-Slytherin-in-me's sake."

Harry knew he should say something to that, but lucky him he found a diversion. "Look, there goes Nott," he said, spotting the boy strutting towards the Forbidden Forest. "I guess that means--"

"Yep, Weasley and Pansy, right on time."

There was nothing left to do for them but wait.

Nott had been feeling rather queasy all throughout the day. Here he was, walking towards the forest, with absolutely no idea why. All he knew was that he had to be there - and he had to be alone.

Huh.

Something nagged at him - you mustn't do evil things, you're a good person! You want everyone to be friends! You love children! You believe all we need is love! - that caused him to hide himself all afternoon, just so he wouldn't do something as wrong as doing something right.

The voice in his head told him to stop, and he did. The voice told him to wait, and he did. The voice told him to turn around and scream in utter terror--

"GYYYAAAAHHHH!!!"

"What? What?" Ron demanded, a disgruntled look on his face.

Nott pointed at him, his hand trembling, "Your--your hair," he muttered. "It's--it's--"

"What?" snapped Pansy.

"It's red," he whispered in blind horror.

Just because the voice told him to.

And now there was loud laughter in his head, the sound, oddly enough, like Malfoy's.

And then - SNAP! - the voice was gone, and Nott was feeling fine.

It also made him feel like venting his fury on someone. Preferably the albino that--

"Here," said Ron.

Nott curled his lip as a bouquet was thrust into his arms. "What's this?" he demanded, fixing Ron a hard look. "Are you professing your undying love for me? Because if you are, tough luck - I don't swing that way." But if you did, then that should've earned me hundreds of Galleons in Third Year you filthy--

"You're disgusting," Pansy intoned.

"It's a peace offering," said Ron, visibly restraining himself from hitting him. Or hitting on him, Nott wasn't sure. "From Hermione."

"The Mudblood?" Nott shoved the roses back. "I don't want anything tainted with her dirty blood on my hands, you stupid--"

And then suddenly, a voice shrieked:

You nasty, you trashy, you classless boy,

You sleazy, you freaky

I never met a boy that does the things that you do

Shame won't come your way--

"What the HELL is that?!" Nott cried, covering his ears as the song droned on.

"These--" Ron shoved the roses back to him, stopping it from singing, "are Rousing Roses, you idiot."

Nott glared at him. Oh, he knew those flowers all right. "So what, I'm supposed to just hold these to keep it silent?"

"Yes, you should," Hermione Granger herself said in her most obnoxious and bossy tones. She strode towards them with Draco - predictably - on her side.

"Here's the Golden Couple," Nott snarled. "Surveying your kingdom?"

"You know, you would've looked intimidating if you weren't holding a bunch of flowers like a blushing bride," Pansy sneered.

Ron guffawed, then stopped when she glared at him.

"Golden?" repeated Hermione, looking affronted. "I would've preferred Silver to appease the Slytherin in me--" Then she caught herself, "--I meant him. Slytherin in him." She jerked a hand at Draco's direction.

Nott scowled at her, then looked at Draco as if expecting something from him.

The attention caused the blond Slytherin to shuffle uncomfortably. "What?"

"You were supposed to say something incredibly demeaning and demoralizing," said Pansy.

Ron just nodded, then, when Pansy nudged him, muttered, "Oh, right." He turned around and nearly ran back to Hogwarts.

"Yes! Right, um--" Draco screwed his face in a sneer, "You have disgusting hair, Nott."

Hermione's smile was brittle. "Any other more creative insults, dearie?"

He looked blank. "Umm--"

"Something wrong?" asked Nott affably, shifting the roses in his hand. "With your head? All that punches I gave you must've--"

Draco looked at Nott's feet and said triumphantly, "You have disgusting feet!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No wonder you were sorted to Gryff--Slytherin," she corrected hastily. Then smiled at Nott. "I would've loved to exchange insults with you, but seeing as I must maintain my pure and pristine and perfect record I'll do nothing of the sort. Instead, I'll offer you a hand to an everlasting friendship. After all, I aspire for nothing but world peace and happiness. That - plus a couple of products to tame my wild, bushy hair."

"Bl--" Draco cleared his throat. "I mean, Hermione--"

She batted her lashes prettily at him. "Yes, dearie?"

"You two," breathed Nott heavily, "make me sick. Keep your tainted things to yourself." And with that, he pushed the bouquet at Hermione's hands. "Enjoy your singing roses, Mudblood." He started to stalk away.

Draco's eyes widened as Nott moved, then he cried, "Hermione! You have a deadly allergic reaction to roses, remember?"

Hermione frowned at him, then at the roses, and brightened. "Yes! Yes I do!" She sneezed dramatically, the sound competing against the crying roses, then placed a hand over her mouth. "Something--is--clogging--my, my... GASP! I--can't--breathe--!"

"What? What's happening?" Nott demanded, watching as the Gryffindor swooned right into Draco's arms. "What's wrong with her?"

"She has a deadly allergic reaction to roses," said Pansy in a light tone. "She'll die, you know."

"No!" Draco shook Hermione with all his might. "You can't die! You can't die!"

"Shake--"

"What?"

"Shake me harder and I will!"

"Oh... sorry..."

"Look!" said Pansy, pointing. "There's Dumbledore. Well. Better tell him you killed the Head Girl."

"What!" said Nott, starting to sweat heavily as his eyes swiveled from the approaching Headmaster to the convulsing girl on the ground. "I didn't--I didn't kill--she's not even dead yet!"

And as if on cue, Hermione rasped out, "I am too! I am so... dying... here... dy--ing--" She gasped, then looked at Draco solemnly. "I--love--you--" And her eyes closed.

"NOOOO!!!"

"And now she's dead," Pansy said conversationally. "Better tell Dumbledore what you did." And to the still approaching figure she ran.

"I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS!!!" cried Draco. He pointed at Nott. "I'LL GET YOU!!!"

"No! No! No!" and Nott started to run. Fear was fast on his veins and he ran until he thought his legs would fall, running off to somewhere, anywhere, just to get far away from the scene--

"Is he gone?" squeaked a voice.

"Yes," answered another.

"Finally." And Hermione pulled herself up with Draco's help. She winked. "He bought it, hook, line, sinker. Sucker."

"Where's Ron?" Draco asked.

"He-re," Dumbledore ground out. "I'm here." He squeezed Pansy's hand as she helped him walk. "Bloody hell. I don't want to be this old and still be walking. It's... bloody hell!" With his incredibly wrinkly hands he covered both his incredibly wrinkly ears. "Someone please kill that blasted song!"

"I'll do it," said Pansy. And before anyone could stop her, she set afire the roses on the ground.

Which led them to multiply rapidly.

"Oh good job, Parkinson."

"Shut up, Potter!"

Nott's feet brought him to the Great Hall, and he looked wildly around him. Had someone discovered already? I killed Hermione Granger, he thought, panicking and ignoring the wild looks he received in turn. Despite her filthy lineage her death still warranted punishment. And Dumbledore was right there! He'd be expelled, he'd be sent to Azkaban, the Dementor's Kiss--

"Hello, Theodore."

"GYYYAAAAHHHH!!!"

And there stood Hermione Granger, unscathed, undead. "Wha--but--you're--"

"Yes?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Is there a problem?"

"You're... dead!" he boomed. "Some... reaction... roses... Dumbledore!" Nott then pointed at Draco, who was smirking at him. "You held her when she died!" He then turned to Hermione. "You told him you love him!"

Hermione chuckled. "Like hell I will."

"Shut up, Granger," said Draco. He then fixed on Nott a meaningful look. "Lost your marbles, Theo? You seem ... a bit pale. Something you encountered along the forest, perhaps?"

A look of confusion spread on Nott's face, then hot on its wings came comprehension. "You--" he said. "You two... staged..."

They didn't even try to deny it. "Gave you quite a scare, huh," goaded Hermione.

"And you know... we aren't finished yet."

And before Nott could utter another word, something drafty came his way. Particularly on the lower half of his body.

Draco cleared his throat. "As Head Boy, I am privileged to remind you the school's policy on students wearing uniforms at all times." Then he snickered. "Or wearing clothes at all times."

"What the hell are you--"

"Oy!" cried someone. "That's a lovely cleavage you have on, Nott."

"Crabbe, what the fuc--"

"Nott's in his birthday suit!" someone sang. "Come and see! Come and look!" And a crowd gathered around them.

When Nott decided to, he looked down at himself--and realized that he was terribly naked. Terribly, devastatingly, humiliatingly nude.

Millicent licked her lips. "My, Nott, if I wasn't so into Neville I would've checked you out."

"Hmm-hmm," agreed Lavender. "Look at that impossibly tight--"

With one hand Nott vainly strived to cover his... manly loins, while the other groped for--

"Looking for this?" Draco twirled his wand prettily.

"Give--me--that!" Nott snarled, amidst the mounting laughter of the crowd.

"I'd like to see you grab for it, without uncovering your, ahem, private property..."

"You bastard Draco Malfoy! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" And with that, he scrambled towards the Slytherin dungeons with the adoring--hooting--crowd fast on his heels.

"And that," said Draco triumphantly, "is humiliation at its best." He turned towards Hermione - and instead of the gloating look he expected on her face, she wore a worrying one instead. "What? Aren't you satisfied?"

She bit her lip, then turned to him. "He said--he said he'll kill you," Hermione whispered. "And there's no such thing as an empty threat to a Slytherin..."

At her vexed expression, he took both her hands and squeezed. "Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I won't let that bastard hurt me again." Or you.

"How...?"

He grinned, and without thinking, kissed her on the forehead. "I have a plan."

That night, Hermione watched Draco as he hunted for Nott. She did this discreetly, not wanting the Slytherin to find out what she was doing. What she wanted was to find out what he would do, when he said he had a plan.

Nott hissed like a wounded snake when Draco found him. "You bastard," he seethed. "I'll kill you, I'll kill--"

"How can you kill me without a wand?" Draco smiled faintly, and Hermione felt her heart stop when she saw Nott wield a large knife.

"Malfoy--!"

And with Nott distracted, Draco took out his wand and said, "Obliviate!"

Something in the other Slytherin's face slackened, and for a while his expression was blank. He then shook his head, looked at Draco and at the knife he was holding, and said, "Draco?" without a trace of loathing in his voice. "What-- what happened?"

"Professor Sprout asked you to gather some herbs for her, I reckon," replied Draco smoothly.

Nott drew his brows together, then shook his head again and left.

Hermione still had some trouble with her breathing when she stared at Draco. "I thought--he was going to stab you," she said.

"Yes, well." He raised his hands. "Part of the whole 'retribution' thing, getting your life threatened."

"But... memory charms?" Why hadn't she thought of that from the beginning?

Draco laughed. "Smart, isn't it?"

She nodded. It couldn't be denied; it was an easy and safe way out of this mess, a guarantee that Nott wouldn't harm them anymore --

"--that way, the bastard will still be laughed at, and he would have no idea why."

Typical Slytherin reasoning.

"That's barbaric," she commented, appalled.

"No, dear," said Draco lightly, tapping her on the nose. "That's revenge."

--

Author's Notes: Whooppeee! This has to be the longest chapter I've written - as in ever. Whooppee! Yay! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! And, hopefully, this made you forgive me for not updating sooner... did it? Did it? -puts a pleading look on my face-

Next up: Graduation Ball. I hope you're as excited as I am for that long awaited moment! :)