WICKED GAME (8/?)
TITLE: Wicked Game
AUTHOR: dracos_damsel
CHAPTER TITLE: What Happens in Hogsmeade . . . . or Crime Scene: Hogwarts
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 5.577
RATING: NC17 for later chapters
PAIRING: erm...Draco/Hermione
ERA: Hogwarts
SUMMARY: 1998: After Voldemort's defeat, Hogwarts is rebuilt and students return to finish their education. When a bet amongst the Slytherins backfires, Malfoy seeks revenge - by getting under Granger's skin. Or into her pants.
But isn't it common knowledge that things never go according to plan?
BETA: jenl3227 , before her musthaveseenher - thank you both so much!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally, the bet makes an appearance ;)
“Draco!” Snape’s beady eyes narrowed dangerously at the blond strolling into the Ball Room.
Smiling, his arm casually draped around Pansy’s waist, Draco made his way towards the bar. His expression almost froze when he spotted his godfather. Picking up his pace, he hurried to the professor. “Severus.”
Snape held up a hand, indicating Draco to stay silent. “It’s one o’clock in the morning and you’re throwing a party off the school grounds, serving alcohol and having strippers dancing. Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?” His stare was merciless. “I demand that you bid your friends from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang goodnight and take the Slytherins back to the dungeons. Now.”
Draco nodded, surprised and shocked, but glad that it had been Snape who had caught them. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Snape nodded, the pitch black depths of his eyes intense. “I want you all gone within the next thirty minutes - do I make myself clear?”
Again, Draco could only nod, uttering another “Yes, Sir” before he took Pansy by the hand and vanished into the crowd to do as he’d been told.
The rest of the gang stood there, staring with wide eyes. Snape turned to look at them and said, entirely too calm, “Aren’t you going to help them?” He raised an eyebrow at the young witches and wizards as they scampered off to help and shut the party down.
Inwardly, Snape shook his head. Merlin knew he didn’t begrudge the students - least of all Draco - a good party, but this here was just unacceptable. Had anybody else found out about this, they would probably face expulsion with all the rules they had broken.
Merlin knew he loved his one and only godson, he really did. Which was why he wouldn’t say a word to anybody about their party, but he would have to talk to the Malfoy in earnest. The blond was a man now, he couldn’t just do what he felt like doing anymore - he had to be more responsible and considerate when it came to this.
***°°***
Thirty-five minutes later, Draco and Pansy were sitting in Snape’s office, awaiting the coming storm in form of Snape’s wrath. The Slytherin head of house had sent his students off to bed, demanding that they would all appear at breakfast the next morning and not breathe a word about what had happened that night. Otherwise it would be detention for the rest of the year.
Even though he didn’t want to admit it, Draco was nervous. He knew he didn’t face expulsion or anything like that, but he felt guilty. And when it came to Severus, he’d never felt like that before. Quietly, the young man knotted his fingers with Pansy’s, who sat directly beside him, her big blue eyes guilt-ridden and cast downward.
Severus sat down behind his desk, gravely staring at the couple in front of him. Minutes ticked by without a word from any of them, until Draco spoke up, voice even and quiet. “We’re sorry, Severus.”
Snape’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No excuses, just ‘we’re sorry’?”
Draco didn’t say anything and instead looked his godfather in the eye apologetically. Pansy was rigid, paralyzed by guilt and fear of what punishment might await them.
“I’m disappointed in you, Draco. It’s less than flattering to have another student inform me of your whereabouts and discover that you’re not acting your age. I’ve seen the change in you - why this now?” Snape inwardly winced at the notion that he was starting to sound like Dumbledore.
The professor took Draco’s silence as shameful affirmation and decided to play nicely. “The upcoming Hogsmeade trips are cancelled for you two for the next two months. I won’t put you in detention and I won’t tell anyone about your little party, but you better keep a low profile from now on. I won’t tolerate any escapades anymore.”
Draco and Pansy nodded in unison.
“Now get some sleep, you’re dismissed.”
***°°***
“Uh,” Daphne moaned when she sat at breakfast hours later, drawing the attention of the three other Slytherin girls sitting with her.
Kathryn, who sat opposite, frowned. “Are you still sick from last night?”
Daphne moaned again, shaking her head ‘no’, then her breath hissed through slightly gritted teeth and she sighed, looking at the entrance of the Great Hall. “I barely drank anything.” She sighed again. “No, it should just be a crime to look that good wearing glasses!”
Pansy’s brow furrowed, alarmed. “But you’re not into Potter all of a sudden now, are you?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “No, silly, I’m talking about Aaron - isn’t it obvious?! Just look at him, ladies!” Her gaze became positively longing. “That guy is the epitome of sex in specks.”
She almost purred the answering ‘hey’, when the boy in question passed by; taller and leaner than Draco and the other guys of the gang, greeting her with a cheeky smile and a cheerful, “Morning Daphy.” Aaron sat down beside Blaise; black-rimmed glasses in place and hair in its naturally slick style, and immediately joined the conversation between the three other boys.
Again, Daphne moaned - this time a bit more quietly. “I’m telling you, that man is scorching!”
Her friends grinned: somebody was positively in love here! “Then watch yourself so you won’t burn your sweet little fingers,” Pansy advised her friend across the table.
Aaron picked that exact moment to look over at Daphne, blue-grey eyes sparkling as he winked at her.
Tracey giggled. “Don’t worry, Pans, I think they both already caught fire! You should have seen them dancing last night!” She shook her hand like she’d just touched something really hot. “Now, that was so not suitable for minors!”
Pansy grinned slyly while Kassy wondered aloud. “Aaron actually danced? Wow, I didn’t even notice. . . .”
Tracey laughed. “Oh, I wonder just why you were so distracted?!”
Kathryn pulled a face at the blonde and giggled, then addressed Daphne again, “So spill it already; how’d he do? You know what they say about the link between how a guy moves on the dance floor and in the sheets, don’t you?”
Daphne smiled brightly, wrapping one of her honey-brown waves around her finger. “If that’s so, then I’d say I’ve probably scored first place, but is that saying even remotely true?”
“Just ask Pansy, she should be able to tell you - you all know how Draco dances!” Kassy advised with a wink. “Though I believe from time to time you two hardly make a difference between dance floor and sheets, don’t you?”
Again, the girls laughed while Pansy merely grinned slyly: a Parkinson girl didn’t brag.
Next to them, Aaron, Blaise, Draco and Chase were wrapped up in their own discussion. “Who do you think it was that snitched us out?” Blaise asked no one in particular.
Draco’s eyes wandered to the far end of their House Table, fixing on a curly-haired Jamaican. He’d asked himself the same question. “Kea Pandorra - sure as tide.”
Chase momentarily froze in the process of chewing. He swallowed hard, then “Are you sure? Why would she do that?”
The Malfoy heir threw him a look that clearly said ‘where did you knock your head?’. “To get back at me for putting her in her place? She’s like a vengeful little puppy.”
Blaise watched as Chase shrugged. “If you think so.”
“Yeah, I do think so,” Draco said, warily observing the American’s every move. “I just wonder how she could have known. It’s not like everybody knew about the party.”
***°°***
“So, I guess you’re done with the Potions essay for Wednesday already, aren’t you?” Harry asked between mouthfuls of his buttered toast.
Hermione took a sip of her tea and nodded. “Yeah, it’s not that hard actually. . . .”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, nothing’s ever hard for you, ‘Mione. . . .”
“No, really,” she insisted. “It’s just that there’s some very important details on the ingredients and the brewing of both the real potion and the antidote that makes up the largest part of the essay. Other than that it’s not that much to write.”
That said, she went back to breakfast again. It was Saturday now, and Ron still hadn’t left Gryffindor Tower, least of all his dorm and bed. To the students, should they notice the redhead’s absence, the Weasley had the flu; the Gryffindors alone knew the truth about their recent break-up.
Hermione glanced at her wristwatch for the umpteenth time that morning; it was nine already. Where the heck was Lavender today? She was usually what they might call an early bird, but hadn’t shown up at breakfast so far.
Hermione took a spoon full of cereal, scanning her house-table, then she addressed the girl next to her. “Parvati, do you know where Lav is?” The Indian’s black hair danced as she shook her head ‘no’.
The brunette sighed, frowning. “Has anybody seen Lavender this morning?” She asked her house-mates. They all shook their heads in unison.
Strange. . . .
Suddenly, Dean’s eyes widened as his gaze brushed the opening doors of the Great Hall, right above Hermione’s left shoulder. He gulped, almost chocking on his coffee. “I think I found her. . . .”
**°°°**
“We haven’t done anything really funny to the Golden Trio in ages. . . .” Blaise mused, staring passively down into the half-full cup of coffee in his hand. Aaron and Chase munched away at their breakfast, the dirty-blond nodding in agreement while Crabbe and Goyle were much too absorbed in eating and still too tired and sore to pay much attention.
“It’s actually your turn, Drake - you got the best ideas anyway.” Chase looked at his friend expectantly. At this point, he had completely sobered up and was his usual, mischievous self again.
The pale-blond took a long swing of his cappuccino and grinned. “Yeah, but I am Head Boy now. I’m not going to lose my badge just because you’re bored to tears. I got close enough to that last night.” And I need some time to properly plot my revenge on little Miss Perfect . . . .
He brushed a few imaginary crumbs off his black cashmere hoody, right where his badge was, and began eating his croissant with relish, not failing to notice the part approving, part disappointed look on Blaise’s mocha features.
And then everything went quiet.
**°°°**
It turned out that Dean hadn’t been the only one to notice; the whole hall fell silent in a type of domino effect, all eyes focusing on Hermione when the doors fell shut again behind the two first years that had just entered.
“What is it?” Hermione asked in confusion, turning to look at the now closed doors. “Dean?” She waved her hand in front of his unblinking eyes. “Dean? What’s the matter? Where is she? Is she outside? Dean?!” The boy didn’t bat an eyelash.
Instead, Neville babbled, eyes fixed on the doors as well. “She’s just outside in the Entrance Hall, Hermione.” Seamus elbowed him none too gently, fiercely shaking his head with an angry frown on his face.
Hermione looked around the table, irritated; her house mates weren’t moving at all. “Have you all gone bonkers?” she asked, partially worried, partially annoyed at their strange behaviour.
No answer.
“Hello?! Could somebody possibly be so nice as to let me know what made you lose your ability to speak?” When she still didn’t get any reaction, she stood up, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.
Ginny and Harry suddenly flared to life. “Hermione, wait!” The girl’s eyebrows shot up in question as Ginny wrung her hands nervously and Harry grabbed the brunette’s arm. “Erm, I-I don’t think you should go out there right now. . . .”
“And why not?”
Harry searched for something to say, a reason good enough to keep his best friend in the Great Hall without telling her the truth. Unfortunately neither Harry nor Ginny could think of anything credible and just stood there like statues, their mouth’s opening and closing without breathing a single word.
“Oh, come on - this is stupid! What’s gotten into you, Harry?” She shook her head, not understanding the least why her friends were behaving this odd. “When you’re back to normal again, you can come find me up in the Head Dorms.”
And with that she shook off Harry’s hand and turned around, walking towards the entrance. It was then she noticed that all the chattering had died out; all she could hear were a few hushed whispers and her own footsteps. Annoyed, she walked on.
When she was at the door, Harry, Ginny, Parvati and the rest of Hermione’s friends got up in a rush and followed her hurriedly. The young witch pushed the great doors open and instantly stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw; her eyes widened in shock and her breath caught in her chest.
“Oh. . . .” The Granny Smith she’d clutched in her left hand fell from suddenly limp fingers.
There, right in front of her, backed against the stone of the banister’s first column, was Ronald Weasley, the redhead’s mouth glued to Lavender Brown’s, their hands all over each other.
Hermione felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her. She took an unsteady step forward, trying to process what was going on. The thud of the heavy doors falling shut behind her caused Ron and Lavender to stop their passionate snogging.
Ron’s deep blue eyes found his previous girlfriend’s wide, watery ones over the other girl’s shoulder; he looked at her with a mixture of guilt, shock and defensiveness, his hands still on Lavender’s waist, even as the witch turned around, startled, to see what had made the boy stop.
She froze. “Oh, my God,” Lavender muttered, one hand on Ron’s as she cast her gaze downwards guiltily.
And that was how they found them; a few metres apart, Hermione stock-still and pale as a sheet, eyes bright with unshed tears, Ron looking defensive, and Lavender blushed and kept her conscience-stricken gaze on the stone pattern beneath her ballet flats.
Soon, they found themselves surrounded by a curious crowd of onlookers, their schoolmates whispering and staring.
**°°°**
Draco, in the meantime, still sat at his table with his friends when the other students began to file out into the Entrance Hall, murmuring excitedly.
He arched his perfectly shaped eyebrows at Blaise in silent question. The boy ran a hand over his cornrows and smirked. “Our dear Head Girl just caught her boyfriend and the ultimate Gryffindor bitch that ought to be her friend: red handed. Just outside-” He jerked his head in the direction of the doors. “-at the end of the stairs. . . .”
Draco grimaced. “That’s revolting.” He shuddered. Really, he hadn’t thought the Weasel to be that kind of guy, not after he’d had the hots for the know-it-all since their first year, trying to keep any harm from her (and failing miserably, but that was besides the point). Also, he really hadn’t thought that he would have the balls to pull something like that off.
His stomach turned as he thought of Granger finding the both of them snogging outside . . . wait, was that . . . sympathy? No, just his breakfast demanding its way back up onto the fresh air. Urgh.
Quickly, another thought crossed his mind - he’d always been quick at scheming and this was probably one of the best ideas he’d ever had regarding his favourite enemies. “They’re all out there now, too: Pothead, the Weaslette - all the other Gryffindorks . . . .” It was a statement, not a question.
Chase watched his friend’s eyes flash wickedly as a sly grin graced the blond’s pale features. “What is it, man? I know that look and I like it a lot -- speak up, Drake!”
“Lads,” The Slytherin Prince began, looking at each of his friends in particular. “I’ve changed my mind on bothering the Dream Team.”
All eyes flew to him and Aaron’s widened in disbelief. “Uh-huh, and what about not wanting to lose your badge?”
Draco sighed, mildly annoyed. “Trust me, what I’m about to do is not overstepping boundaries-”
Not official boundaries at least. . . .
“-It’s not enough to make me lose my badge, thanks for your concern. What I actually meant to say is that I have a thought to propose. A bet, more precisely.” Now even those still eating (namely Crabbe and Goyle) lay everything aside to pay attention. “I bet that I can make Potter gape, the Weasel throw a fit and our Golden Girl blush - all at the same time.” He looked at each of his friends. “Now.”
Blaise grinned warily, nodding his head in good humour. “Oh yeah, sure. And how’s that going to work?”
Draco stood up, locking eyes with the dark skinned Slytherin conspiratorially as his grin became crooked. “Watch and marvel.”
**°°°**
Ginny was currently shouting at her older brother at the top of her lungs, ‘asking’ him how he could’ve been so stupid and whether he ever contemplated even a single second before doing anything, whilst calling Lavender a back-stabbing bitch in the same breath.
Harry tried to get Hermione up into her room and away from the scene, but she wouldn’t so much as acknowledge his presence. All she did was stand there, rooted to the spot. Her eyes were closed, her hands shaking as they hung loosely by her sides, silent tears making their way down her cheeks.
Seamus, Dean and Neville had a hard time keeping their fellow students away while Parvati tried to make Ginny stop yelling and take care of Hermione instead. Seeing as Harry couldn’t do anything to make the brunette move without making use of magic, he helped his other friends to keep the crowd from closing in on the Head Girl and her traitorous friends.
When a tall, pale blond guy pushed his way through the crowd of on-lookers, all heated murmurs died out in a heartbeat. All that was to be heard was Ginny’s flood of angry words. Harry fiercely grabbed the lean boy’s arm, hissing angrily, “Malfoy, this is none of your damn business, keep out of it!”
But the Slytherin merely smirked. He swiftly pulled his arm free and strode towards the unmoving witch in the centre of the circle of students before Harry or anybody else even had the chance to react. He came to a halt right in front of the girl and regarded her for a split second with curious eyes, noticing something really strange. She was actually pretty when she was sad and shocked like that.
The tears that clung to her dark lashes sparkled like tiny diamonds in the hazy morning sun that poured in through the high above windows; her thick hair wound its way down her shoulders in stubborn curls and those lips that had mocked him just yesterday in detention trembled ever so slightly as she parted them a fraction to draw a shaky breath. The thought fled his mind as fast as it had formed, though, leaving behind nothing but a peculiar tingle in his stomach.
Draco deliberately ignored this and grinned that rare and genuine, lopsided grin of his that made the witches fall under his spell without real magic. Then he took a quick step closer, leaving a mere hair’s breadth to separate their bodies. Gasps filled the air as he put one elegant finger under her trembling chin and swiftly brought his head down to seal her lips with his, his eyelids shielding his silver gaze from the world as they fluttered closed.
With that, the young man pulled the girl out of her numbing state of shock and back to reality. Hermione’s eyes shot open at the contact, instantly recognizing the sleek strands of silky blond hair that danced in front of her eyes, along with the whiff of expensive cologne that filled her nostrils.
MALFOY?! What the-
She wanted to push him away, slap him right in the face, break his damnable aristocratic nose for possessing the cheek to even touch her! Had she had her wand with her, she would have already hexed him into oblivion! What a prat! Who did he think he was to even try to kiss her?! Had he come to make fun of her and bathe in her misery? That moronic asshole! She was determined to slap him just like she’d done not all that long ago, until another thought crossed her mind. Without further hesitation, Hermione opened her mouth-
Draco did a mental happy dance; this was by far easier than he’d thought it would be!
-and bit down sharply on his lower lip. The boy winced, tasting a drop of the copper flavour of his own blood, but was now all the more determined to make her kiss him back. Ignoring her act of stubbornness, he sucked her upper lip into his warm mouth, grazing it with his teeth, but not biting down as if showing that he would forgive her while at the same time telling her to be gentle.
He released her lip and slowly ran his tongue along the shape of her parted lips, blocking out the throbbing pain her bite left in his lip as well as he could. He would win this bet, come what may. That stubborn little witch would not make him lose, either, his temper in front of the better part of the student body, or the bet he’d proposed so sure of his own victory. And no way in hell would she thwart his ingenious payback plans.
Mind set on winning, Draco made use of all the tenderness he could muster, holding back her arms at her wrists when she suddenly tried to push him away.
To say that Hermione was angry would be an understatement. She was seething, not wanting to let him win, even trying to push him away, but he swiftly caught her wrists and guided them to his sides, pulling her closer still, though she could already sense the warmth of his body. She cursed inwardly, contemplating kicking him, but she was standing too close to him to be able to aim a good kick. She let her hands around his waist claw into the soft fabric of his black hoody and the skin beyond, feeling with satisfaction how he tensed, suppressing a growl at the pain with great effort.
That little beast! Just you wait. . . . Draco’s determination grew firmer and firmer with each petty display of resistance.
She grinned against the Head Boy’s lips when her gaze fell upon the redhead opposite her, who was staring with an anger reddened face. Feeling the suddenly very strong desire to get back at him, she seized the opportunity and all of a sudden started to respond to Malfoy’s attentions as all fight against the blond drained from her. With the softest of sighs, she gave him access, hesitantly seeking his tongue with her own when she let her eyes slide shut again, the image of a seething Ron dancing across the inside of her eyelids.
Apparently the fact that she was kissing one DRACO MALFOY, the ultimate prat of the century in the middle of the hall, in front of the entire school, wasn’t that horrible given the circumstances. Even concentrating on her revenge, she couldn’t help but notice that he tasted of the finest Italian cappuccino and chocolate croissants.
Typically him; never the ordinary. . . .
He didn’t know what had moved her to give in and actually respond to the kiss, but it was all to his advantage, so who was he to question her motives? He could almost taste the victory and decided to put on a really good show for the eager audience. So he gathered her in his arms; one hand on her waist, the other one cupping her wet cheek as he affectionately brushed away a stray tear with his thumb, never ceasing to work magic on her lips that had nothing to do with wands or incantations.
His kiss was gentle, almost comforting -- as if he wanted to console her, make her feel better. She was almost alarmed at the tenderness of his touch and kiss, but excited all the same. It was so sweet, still there was a sense of lurking force, a preying power, and the combination, the thrill of it, frankly took her last breath away. It felt somewhat secure to have him hold her like this, she noted not without quite a bit of shock. Of their own accord, Hermione’s hands slid their way up over his chest and around his neck to lock behind it.
Wrong, so wrong! It’s quite enough now, Hermione!
But somehow she didn’t really want to, and Malfoy didn’t seem like he was going to stop soon, either. They let their tongues dance for a while longer, Hermione becoming bolder and intensifying their kiss until at some point the blond had to suppress a moan.
“What on earth is going on here?!” McGonagall’s voice cut through the silence as she pushed through the crowd of spectators, freezing in her step when she saw the furious expression on Ron Weasley’s face and the unusual couple composed of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. “Mister Malfoy! Miss Granger!”
Startled, Draco broke the kiss - with reluctance, as he noted to his own discomfort. A rosy blush brought back the colour into Hermione’s former shock-paled cheeks when she saw her Head of House, unable to look into the older woman’s eyes. Quickly, she let her hands drop from behind Malfoy’s neck.
“Mister Potter, escort Mister Weasley to his room. Head Students, neither the Headmaster, nor professor Snape or myself will tolerate a show like this again. I expect you to not repeat this.” She fixed the both of them with a stern expression, having overcome her confusion and surprise at the irregular couple. “The rest of you will go their ways - the show is over.”
While McGonagall tried to shoo away the curious onlookers, Malfoy and Granger locked eyes - with a glare on Hermione’s part. Their breathing was still shallow, hearts pounding from their kiss and the shock of the teacher’s sudden appearance. Draco still had his hand around her waist and pulled her in again, his voice husky as he spoke in a mere rough whisper.
“As I said, Granger - another guy would probably do the trick. I highly doubt that dim-witted excuse for a wizard ever left you breathless like that.” The defensive flash of her eyes didn’t slip his attention, but neither did the fact that she didn’t argue. He grinned. “Before you go berserk on me, think of it this way: this little kiss was a direct, right-in-the-face way to get back at your dear would-be boyfriend. After all, I’m still kind of his favourite enemy, am I not?” He searched her big brown eyes and found that she, again, couldn’t argue - but that didn’t mean that she had nothing to say.
“Of course it’s nothing more than that! Don’t tell me you actually thought even for a split second that there could be any other reason for me to allow this. What just happened was for revenge purpose only, understood?”
He barely nodded his head, still grinning slyly. “Well, good then. See ya later, Granger.”
And with a wink at Hermione, he swiftly spun around and gracefully pushed his way through a couple of Slytherin girls, strutting up the stairs that would lead him to the third floor without any haste, leaving what was left of the crowd in stunned silence and various states of temper.
Ron for his part glared daggers at Malfoy’s retreating back, held in place only by a gaping Dean, Seamus and Neville, who didn’t want him to do anything to the Head Boy that he might or might not regret afterwards. Harry’s jaw dropped incredulously while Ginny stared with an expression similar to her boyfriend’s. Lavender had clamped one hand over her mouth and Parvati grinned with what seemed to be stunned adoration for her friend.
Some watched Malfoy’s smug expression as he left, following him with their eyes until he was out of sight. Others watched as Hermione looked distractedly around the Hall until she challengingly locked eyes with Ron, daring him to say or do anything, then suddenly headed up the stairs for her private room.
Blaise, Aaron, Chase and the other Slytherin students, among them a pair of Jamaican witches, had come in time to watch the kissing spectacle as well, gaping in awe or disbelieve at their Prince and how he’d managed to win that bet with a single action. Except for those who still hadn’t managed to let go of their blood status beliefs - those were shaking their heads with disgusted expressions and wrinkled noses.
So many people had seen the Head Students’ lip action, yet, Blaise was the only one to notice the expression of utter surprise and alarm that had flickered across his best friend’s fine features for half a heartbeat when he’d broken the kiss. He’d rarely seen that in Draco . . . something had just happened. Something really odd.
No wonder he was the only one to see, because to everybody else, the whole scene had seemed genuine - disturbing, but real nonetheless. It always did, because Draco really was an excellent actor. He had put up a rather impressing show with that kiss, but Blaise could tell the difference, and this time, it had been real emotion.
He was curious about what Draco would tell him about that - or if he would tell him about it. Pursing his lips in contemplation, he took a look around the hall; the shocked freeze of those still there had broken and people were whispering again.
Well then. Let the rumours begin. . . .
***°°°***
When the hum of voices grew louder, Ron just couldn’t take it anymore: he broke free of his friends’ grip and pushed past the shell-shocked Lavender, running up the stairs to seek the sanctuary of his bed again. Face red and blue eyes almost shooting bolts with rage, he stormed further up, passing that fucking asshole of a milky white Draco bloody sodden Malfoy. But not without shoulder-hitting the Slytherin roughly out of his way.
Other than that, the Weasley didn’t acknowledge Draco’s presence in any way, marching towards the next staircase at full speed. It really took all of the little self-restraint Ron possessed at that moment to not launch at the prick and beat him to a bloody pulp.
Draco merely grinned smugly at the raging redhead, which his effort of holding back showed clearly in the way he tensely sped up the stairs. Feeling nothing but glee, he bit back the cutting remark that threatened to slip off his acid tongue; a true and proper Malfoy enjoyed in silence . . . at least for a while.
And that while was gone the second his best friend walked up from behind, falling in step next to him. “Did I win that bet or what?” Draco grinned, grey eyes sparkling.
“Sure did - like a champ, mate!” Blaise smirked and patted the other on the back.
“I am the ultimate champ, dickhead.”
“Of course, Blondie.” The young men laughed as they made their way to the Slytherin Lounge in the Astronomy Tower to celebrate Draco’s victory. “Hey, we didn’t settle any reward, you never said what you wanted if you won the bet.”
Draco’s grin became malicious. “I don’t want any reward, mate. This time, I did it just for fun.”
Blaise regarded his best friend with a thoughtful expression. “For fun? You kissed Granger for fun, disregarding the possibility to be hexed into the next bloody millennium by the girl that’s pretty much in the high ranks of your ‘Least Favourite Persons’ list? Did I miss something?”
The blond snorted. “Yes, you did. I won a bet with this; I found a very nice and rumour provoking way to get back at Boy Wonder and the Weasel and - and that’s the most fun part - Granger kissed me back without anybody noticing the minor fight she put up in those first moments.” His expression was nothing but smug. “She will go crazy about those rumours.” I’ll make sure of that. . . .
Blaise wasn’t entirely convinced. “I know somebody who will go crazy as well and I’m sure you’re not going to like it. . . .”
Draco didn’t look worried in the least. “You mean Pansy?” At Blaises nod, Draco made a dismissive gesture. “She’ll understand - it’s only a bet after all. She knows it meant nothing.” The witch would be waiting for them with her girls in the Slytherin Room and he knew for a fact that she really got something from watching him kiss other girls. Besides, it was her who kissed Chase the night before. Why should he worry?
Blaise mentally shook his head at the blond, unable to give less thought to the emotion that had flickered across his best friend’s face minutes before. He had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t over by far.
AUTHOR: dracos_damsel
CHAPTER TITLE: What Happens in Hogsmeade . . . . or Crime Scene: Hogwarts
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 5.577
RATING: NC17 for later chapters
PAIRING: erm...Draco/Hermione
ERA: Hogwarts
SUMMARY: 1998: After Voldemort's defeat, Hogwarts is rebuilt and students return to finish their education. When a bet amongst the Slytherins backfires, Malfoy seeks revenge - by getting under Granger's skin. Or into her pants.
But isn't it common knowledge that things never go according to plan?
BETA: jenl3227 , before her musthaveseenher - thank you both so much!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally, the bet makes an appearance ;)
“Draco!” Snape’s beady eyes narrowed dangerously at the blond strolling into the Ball Room.
Smiling, his arm casually draped around Pansy’s waist, Draco made his way towards the bar. His expression almost froze when he spotted his godfather. Picking up his pace, he hurried to the professor. “Severus.”
Snape held up a hand, indicating Draco to stay silent. “It’s one o’clock in the morning and you’re throwing a party off the school grounds, serving alcohol and having strippers dancing. Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?” His stare was merciless. “I demand that you bid your friends from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang goodnight and take the Slytherins back to the dungeons. Now.”
Draco nodded, surprised and shocked, but glad that it had been Snape who had caught them. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Snape nodded, the pitch black depths of his eyes intense. “I want you all gone within the next thirty minutes - do I make myself clear?”
Again, Draco could only nod, uttering another “Yes, Sir” before he took Pansy by the hand and vanished into the crowd to do as he’d been told.
The rest of the gang stood there, staring with wide eyes. Snape turned to look at them and said, entirely too calm, “Aren’t you going to help them?” He raised an eyebrow at the young witches and wizards as they scampered off to help and shut the party down.
Inwardly, Snape shook his head. Merlin knew he didn’t begrudge the students - least of all Draco - a good party, but this here was just unacceptable. Had anybody else found out about this, they would probably face expulsion with all the rules they had broken.
Merlin knew he loved his one and only godson, he really did. Which was why he wouldn’t say a word to anybody about their party, but he would have to talk to the Malfoy in earnest. The blond was a man now, he couldn’t just do what he felt like doing anymore - he had to be more responsible and considerate when it came to this.
***°°***
Thirty-five minutes later, Draco and Pansy were sitting in Snape’s office, awaiting the coming storm in form of Snape’s wrath. The Slytherin head of house had sent his students off to bed, demanding that they would all appear at breakfast the next morning and not breathe a word about what had happened that night. Otherwise it would be detention for the rest of the year.
Even though he didn’t want to admit it, Draco was nervous. He knew he didn’t face expulsion or anything like that, but he felt guilty. And when it came to Severus, he’d never felt like that before. Quietly, the young man knotted his fingers with Pansy’s, who sat directly beside him, her big blue eyes guilt-ridden and cast downward.
Severus sat down behind his desk, gravely staring at the couple in front of him. Minutes ticked by without a word from any of them, until Draco spoke up, voice even and quiet. “We’re sorry, Severus.”
Snape’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No excuses, just ‘we’re sorry’?”
Draco didn’t say anything and instead looked his godfather in the eye apologetically. Pansy was rigid, paralyzed by guilt and fear of what punishment might await them.
“I’m disappointed in you, Draco. It’s less than flattering to have another student inform me of your whereabouts and discover that you’re not acting your age. I’ve seen the change in you - why this now?” Snape inwardly winced at the notion that he was starting to sound like Dumbledore.
The professor took Draco’s silence as shameful affirmation and decided to play nicely. “The upcoming Hogsmeade trips are cancelled for you two for the next two months. I won’t put you in detention and I won’t tell anyone about your little party, but you better keep a low profile from now on. I won’t tolerate any escapades anymore.”
Draco and Pansy nodded in unison.
“Now get some sleep, you’re dismissed.”
***°°***
“Uh,” Daphne moaned when she sat at breakfast hours later, drawing the attention of the three other Slytherin girls sitting with her.
Kathryn, who sat opposite, frowned. “Are you still sick from last night?”
Daphne moaned again, shaking her head ‘no’, then her breath hissed through slightly gritted teeth and she sighed, looking at the entrance of the Great Hall. “I barely drank anything.” She sighed again. “No, it should just be a crime to look that good wearing glasses!”
Pansy’s brow furrowed, alarmed. “But you’re not into Potter all of a sudden now, are you?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “No, silly, I’m talking about Aaron - isn’t it obvious?! Just look at him, ladies!” Her gaze became positively longing. “That guy is the epitome of sex in specks.”
She almost purred the answering ‘hey’, when the boy in question passed by; taller and leaner than Draco and the other guys of the gang, greeting her with a cheeky smile and a cheerful, “Morning Daphy.” Aaron sat down beside Blaise; black-rimmed glasses in place and hair in its naturally slick style, and immediately joined the conversation between the three other boys.
Again, Daphne moaned - this time a bit more quietly. “I’m telling you, that man is scorching!”
Her friends grinned: somebody was positively in love here! “Then watch yourself so you won’t burn your sweet little fingers,” Pansy advised her friend across the table.
Aaron picked that exact moment to look over at Daphne, blue-grey eyes sparkling as he winked at her.
Tracey giggled. “Don’t worry, Pans, I think they both already caught fire! You should have seen them dancing last night!” She shook her hand like she’d just touched something really hot. “Now, that was so not suitable for minors!”
Pansy grinned slyly while Kassy wondered aloud. “Aaron actually danced? Wow, I didn’t even notice. . . .”
Tracey laughed. “Oh, I wonder just why you were so distracted?!”
Kathryn pulled a face at the blonde and giggled, then addressed Daphne again, “So spill it already; how’d he do? You know what they say about the link between how a guy moves on the dance floor and in the sheets, don’t you?”
Daphne smiled brightly, wrapping one of her honey-brown waves around her finger. “If that’s so, then I’d say I’ve probably scored first place, but is that saying even remotely true?”
“Just ask Pansy, she should be able to tell you - you all know how Draco dances!” Kassy advised with a wink. “Though I believe from time to time you two hardly make a difference between dance floor and sheets, don’t you?”
Again, the girls laughed while Pansy merely grinned slyly: a Parkinson girl didn’t brag.
Next to them, Aaron, Blaise, Draco and Chase were wrapped up in their own discussion. “Who do you think it was that snitched us out?” Blaise asked no one in particular.
Draco’s eyes wandered to the far end of their House Table, fixing on a curly-haired Jamaican. He’d asked himself the same question. “Kea Pandorra - sure as tide.”
Chase momentarily froze in the process of chewing. He swallowed hard, then “Are you sure? Why would she do that?”
The Malfoy heir threw him a look that clearly said ‘where did you knock your head?’. “To get back at me for putting her in her place? She’s like a vengeful little puppy.”
Blaise watched as Chase shrugged. “If you think so.”
“Yeah, I do think so,” Draco said, warily observing the American’s every move. “I just wonder how she could have known. It’s not like everybody knew about the party.”
***°°***
“So, I guess you’re done with the Potions essay for Wednesday already, aren’t you?” Harry asked between mouthfuls of his buttered toast.
Hermione took a sip of her tea and nodded. “Yeah, it’s not that hard actually. . . .”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, nothing’s ever hard for you, ‘Mione. . . .”
“No, really,” she insisted. “It’s just that there’s some very important details on the ingredients and the brewing of both the real potion and the antidote that makes up the largest part of the essay. Other than that it’s not that much to write.”
That said, she went back to breakfast again. It was Saturday now, and Ron still hadn’t left Gryffindor Tower, least of all his dorm and bed. To the students, should they notice the redhead’s absence, the Weasley had the flu; the Gryffindors alone knew the truth about their recent break-up.
Hermione glanced at her wristwatch for the umpteenth time that morning; it was nine already. Where the heck was Lavender today? She was usually what they might call an early bird, but hadn’t shown up at breakfast so far.
Hermione took a spoon full of cereal, scanning her house-table, then she addressed the girl next to her. “Parvati, do you know where Lav is?” The Indian’s black hair danced as she shook her head ‘no’.
The brunette sighed, frowning. “Has anybody seen Lavender this morning?” She asked her house-mates. They all shook their heads in unison.
Strange. . . .
Suddenly, Dean’s eyes widened as his gaze brushed the opening doors of the Great Hall, right above Hermione’s left shoulder. He gulped, almost chocking on his coffee. “I think I found her. . . .”
**°°°**
“We haven’t done anything really funny to the Golden Trio in ages. . . .” Blaise mused, staring passively down into the half-full cup of coffee in his hand. Aaron and Chase munched away at their breakfast, the dirty-blond nodding in agreement while Crabbe and Goyle were much too absorbed in eating and still too tired and sore to pay much attention.
“It’s actually your turn, Drake - you got the best ideas anyway.” Chase looked at his friend expectantly. At this point, he had completely sobered up and was his usual, mischievous self again.
The pale-blond took a long swing of his cappuccino and grinned. “Yeah, but I am Head Boy now. I’m not going to lose my badge just because you’re bored to tears. I got close enough to that last night.” And I need some time to properly plot my revenge on little Miss Perfect . . . .
He brushed a few imaginary crumbs off his black cashmere hoody, right where his badge was, and began eating his croissant with relish, not failing to notice the part approving, part disappointed look on Blaise’s mocha features.
And then everything went quiet.
**°°°**
It turned out that Dean hadn’t been the only one to notice; the whole hall fell silent in a type of domino effect, all eyes focusing on Hermione when the doors fell shut again behind the two first years that had just entered.
“What is it?” Hermione asked in confusion, turning to look at the now closed doors. “Dean?” She waved her hand in front of his unblinking eyes. “Dean? What’s the matter? Where is she? Is she outside? Dean?!” The boy didn’t bat an eyelash.
Instead, Neville babbled, eyes fixed on the doors as well. “She’s just outside in the Entrance Hall, Hermione.” Seamus elbowed him none too gently, fiercely shaking his head with an angry frown on his face.
Hermione looked around the table, irritated; her house mates weren’t moving at all. “Have you all gone bonkers?” she asked, partially worried, partially annoyed at their strange behaviour.
No answer.
“Hello?! Could somebody possibly be so nice as to let me know what made you lose your ability to speak?” When she still didn’t get any reaction, she stood up, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.
Ginny and Harry suddenly flared to life. “Hermione, wait!” The girl’s eyebrows shot up in question as Ginny wrung her hands nervously and Harry grabbed the brunette’s arm. “Erm, I-I don’t think you should go out there right now. . . .”
“And why not?”
Harry searched for something to say, a reason good enough to keep his best friend in the Great Hall without telling her the truth. Unfortunately neither Harry nor Ginny could think of anything credible and just stood there like statues, their mouth’s opening and closing without breathing a single word.
“Oh, come on - this is stupid! What’s gotten into you, Harry?” She shook her head, not understanding the least why her friends were behaving this odd. “When you’re back to normal again, you can come find me up in the Head Dorms.”
And with that she shook off Harry’s hand and turned around, walking towards the entrance. It was then she noticed that all the chattering had died out; all she could hear were a few hushed whispers and her own footsteps. Annoyed, she walked on.
When she was at the door, Harry, Ginny, Parvati and the rest of Hermione’s friends got up in a rush and followed her hurriedly. The young witch pushed the great doors open and instantly stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw; her eyes widened in shock and her breath caught in her chest.
“Oh. . . .” The Granny Smith she’d clutched in her left hand fell from suddenly limp fingers.
There, right in front of her, backed against the stone of the banister’s first column, was Ronald Weasley, the redhead’s mouth glued to Lavender Brown’s, their hands all over each other.
Hermione felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her. She took an unsteady step forward, trying to process what was going on. The thud of the heavy doors falling shut behind her caused Ron and Lavender to stop their passionate snogging.
Ron’s deep blue eyes found his previous girlfriend’s wide, watery ones over the other girl’s shoulder; he looked at her with a mixture of guilt, shock and defensiveness, his hands still on Lavender’s waist, even as the witch turned around, startled, to see what had made the boy stop.
She froze. “Oh, my God,” Lavender muttered, one hand on Ron’s as she cast her gaze downwards guiltily.
And that was how they found them; a few metres apart, Hermione stock-still and pale as a sheet, eyes bright with unshed tears, Ron looking defensive, and Lavender blushed and kept her conscience-stricken gaze on the stone pattern beneath her ballet flats.
Soon, they found themselves surrounded by a curious crowd of onlookers, their schoolmates whispering and staring.
**°°°**
Draco, in the meantime, still sat at his table with his friends when the other students began to file out into the Entrance Hall, murmuring excitedly.
He arched his perfectly shaped eyebrows at Blaise in silent question. The boy ran a hand over his cornrows and smirked. “Our dear Head Girl just caught her boyfriend and the ultimate Gryffindor bitch that ought to be her friend: red handed. Just outside-” He jerked his head in the direction of the doors. “-at the end of the stairs. . . .”
Draco grimaced. “That’s revolting.” He shuddered. Really, he hadn’t thought the Weasel to be that kind of guy, not after he’d had the hots for the know-it-all since their first year, trying to keep any harm from her (and failing miserably, but that was besides the point). Also, he really hadn’t thought that he would have the balls to pull something like that off.
His stomach turned as he thought of Granger finding the both of them snogging outside . . . wait, was that . . . sympathy? No, just his breakfast demanding its way back up onto the fresh air. Urgh.
Quickly, another thought crossed his mind - he’d always been quick at scheming and this was probably one of the best ideas he’d ever had regarding his favourite enemies. “They’re all out there now, too: Pothead, the Weaslette - all the other Gryffindorks . . . .” It was a statement, not a question.
Chase watched his friend’s eyes flash wickedly as a sly grin graced the blond’s pale features. “What is it, man? I know that look and I like it a lot -- speak up, Drake!”
“Lads,” The Slytherin Prince began, looking at each of his friends in particular. “I’ve changed my mind on bothering the Dream Team.”
All eyes flew to him and Aaron’s widened in disbelief. “Uh-huh, and what about not wanting to lose your badge?”
Draco sighed, mildly annoyed. “Trust me, what I’m about to do is not overstepping boundaries-”
Not official boundaries at least. . . .
“-It’s not enough to make me lose my badge, thanks for your concern. What I actually meant to say is that I have a thought to propose. A bet, more precisely.” Now even those still eating (namely Crabbe and Goyle) lay everything aside to pay attention. “I bet that I can make Potter gape, the Weasel throw a fit and our Golden Girl blush - all at the same time.” He looked at each of his friends. “Now.”
Blaise grinned warily, nodding his head in good humour. “Oh yeah, sure. And how’s that going to work?”
Draco stood up, locking eyes with the dark skinned Slytherin conspiratorially as his grin became crooked. “Watch and marvel.”
**°°°**
Ginny was currently shouting at her older brother at the top of her lungs, ‘asking’ him how he could’ve been so stupid and whether he ever contemplated even a single second before doing anything, whilst calling Lavender a back-stabbing bitch in the same breath.
Harry tried to get Hermione up into her room and away from the scene, but she wouldn’t so much as acknowledge his presence. All she did was stand there, rooted to the spot. Her eyes were closed, her hands shaking as they hung loosely by her sides, silent tears making their way down her cheeks.
Seamus, Dean and Neville had a hard time keeping their fellow students away while Parvati tried to make Ginny stop yelling and take care of Hermione instead. Seeing as Harry couldn’t do anything to make the brunette move without making use of magic, he helped his other friends to keep the crowd from closing in on the Head Girl and her traitorous friends.
When a tall, pale blond guy pushed his way through the crowd of on-lookers, all heated murmurs died out in a heartbeat. All that was to be heard was Ginny’s flood of angry words. Harry fiercely grabbed the lean boy’s arm, hissing angrily, “Malfoy, this is none of your damn business, keep out of it!”
But the Slytherin merely smirked. He swiftly pulled his arm free and strode towards the unmoving witch in the centre of the circle of students before Harry or anybody else even had the chance to react. He came to a halt right in front of the girl and regarded her for a split second with curious eyes, noticing something really strange. She was actually pretty when she was sad and shocked like that.
The tears that clung to her dark lashes sparkled like tiny diamonds in the hazy morning sun that poured in through the high above windows; her thick hair wound its way down her shoulders in stubborn curls and those lips that had mocked him just yesterday in detention trembled ever so slightly as she parted them a fraction to draw a shaky breath. The thought fled his mind as fast as it had formed, though, leaving behind nothing but a peculiar tingle in his stomach.
Draco deliberately ignored this and grinned that rare and genuine, lopsided grin of his that made the witches fall under his spell without real magic. Then he took a quick step closer, leaving a mere hair’s breadth to separate their bodies. Gasps filled the air as he put one elegant finger under her trembling chin and swiftly brought his head down to seal her lips with his, his eyelids shielding his silver gaze from the world as they fluttered closed.
With that, the young man pulled the girl out of her numbing state of shock and back to reality. Hermione’s eyes shot open at the contact, instantly recognizing the sleek strands of silky blond hair that danced in front of her eyes, along with the whiff of expensive cologne that filled her nostrils.
MALFOY?! What the-
She wanted to push him away, slap him right in the face, break his damnable aristocratic nose for possessing the cheek to even touch her! Had she had her wand with her, she would have already hexed him into oblivion! What a prat! Who did he think he was to even try to kiss her?! Had he come to make fun of her and bathe in her misery? That moronic asshole! She was determined to slap him just like she’d done not all that long ago, until another thought crossed her mind. Without further hesitation, Hermione opened her mouth-
Draco did a mental happy dance; this was by far easier than he’d thought it would be!
-and bit down sharply on his lower lip. The boy winced, tasting a drop of the copper flavour of his own blood, but was now all the more determined to make her kiss him back. Ignoring her act of stubbornness, he sucked her upper lip into his warm mouth, grazing it with his teeth, but not biting down as if showing that he would forgive her while at the same time telling her to be gentle.
He released her lip and slowly ran his tongue along the shape of her parted lips, blocking out the throbbing pain her bite left in his lip as well as he could. He would win this bet, come what may. That stubborn little witch would not make him lose, either, his temper in front of the better part of the student body, or the bet he’d proposed so sure of his own victory. And no way in hell would she thwart his ingenious payback plans.
Mind set on winning, Draco made use of all the tenderness he could muster, holding back her arms at her wrists when she suddenly tried to push him away.
To say that Hermione was angry would be an understatement. She was seething, not wanting to let him win, even trying to push him away, but he swiftly caught her wrists and guided them to his sides, pulling her closer still, though she could already sense the warmth of his body. She cursed inwardly, contemplating kicking him, but she was standing too close to him to be able to aim a good kick. She let her hands around his waist claw into the soft fabric of his black hoody and the skin beyond, feeling with satisfaction how he tensed, suppressing a growl at the pain with great effort.
That little beast! Just you wait. . . . Draco’s determination grew firmer and firmer with each petty display of resistance.
She grinned against the Head Boy’s lips when her gaze fell upon the redhead opposite her, who was staring with an anger reddened face. Feeling the suddenly very strong desire to get back at him, she seized the opportunity and all of a sudden started to respond to Malfoy’s attentions as all fight against the blond drained from her. With the softest of sighs, she gave him access, hesitantly seeking his tongue with her own when she let her eyes slide shut again, the image of a seething Ron dancing across the inside of her eyelids.
Apparently the fact that she was kissing one DRACO MALFOY, the ultimate prat of the century in the middle of the hall, in front of the entire school, wasn’t that horrible given the circumstances. Even concentrating on her revenge, she couldn’t help but notice that he tasted of the finest Italian cappuccino and chocolate croissants.
Typically him; never the ordinary. . . .
He didn’t know what had moved her to give in and actually respond to the kiss, but it was all to his advantage, so who was he to question her motives? He could almost taste the victory and decided to put on a really good show for the eager audience. So he gathered her in his arms; one hand on her waist, the other one cupping her wet cheek as he affectionately brushed away a stray tear with his thumb, never ceasing to work magic on her lips that had nothing to do with wands or incantations.
His kiss was gentle, almost comforting -- as if he wanted to console her, make her feel better. She was almost alarmed at the tenderness of his touch and kiss, but excited all the same. It was so sweet, still there was a sense of lurking force, a preying power, and the combination, the thrill of it, frankly took her last breath away. It felt somewhat secure to have him hold her like this, she noted not without quite a bit of shock. Of their own accord, Hermione’s hands slid their way up over his chest and around his neck to lock behind it.
Wrong, so wrong! It’s quite enough now, Hermione!
But somehow she didn’t really want to, and Malfoy didn’t seem like he was going to stop soon, either. They let their tongues dance for a while longer, Hermione becoming bolder and intensifying their kiss until at some point the blond had to suppress a moan.
“What on earth is going on here?!” McGonagall’s voice cut through the silence as she pushed through the crowd of spectators, freezing in her step when she saw the furious expression on Ron Weasley’s face and the unusual couple composed of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. “Mister Malfoy! Miss Granger!”
Startled, Draco broke the kiss - with reluctance, as he noted to his own discomfort. A rosy blush brought back the colour into Hermione’s former shock-paled cheeks when she saw her Head of House, unable to look into the older woman’s eyes. Quickly, she let her hands drop from behind Malfoy’s neck.
“Mister Potter, escort Mister Weasley to his room. Head Students, neither the Headmaster, nor professor Snape or myself will tolerate a show like this again. I expect you to not repeat this.” She fixed the both of them with a stern expression, having overcome her confusion and surprise at the irregular couple. “The rest of you will go their ways - the show is over.”
While McGonagall tried to shoo away the curious onlookers, Malfoy and Granger locked eyes - with a glare on Hermione’s part. Their breathing was still shallow, hearts pounding from their kiss and the shock of the teacher’s sudden appearance. Draco still had his hand around her waist and pulled her in again, his voice husky as he spoke in a mere rough whisper.
“As I said, Granger - another guy would probably do the trick. I highly doubt that dim-witted excuse for a wizard ever left you breathless like that.” The defensive flash of her eyes didn’t slip his attention, but neither did the fact that she didn’t argue. He grinned. “Before you go berserk on me, think of it this way: this little kiss was a direct, right-in-the-face way to get back at your dear would-be boyfriend. After all, I’m still kind of his favourite enemy, am I not?” He searched her big brown eyes and found that she, again, couldn’t argue - but that didn’t mean that she had nothing to say.
“Of course it’s nothing more than that! Don’t tell me you actually thought even for a split second that there could be any other reason for me to allow this. What just happened was for revenge purpose only, understood?”
He barely nodded his head, still grinning slyly. “Well, good then. See ya later, Granger.”
And with a wink at Hermione, he swiftly spun around and gracefully pushed his way through a couple of Slytherin girls, strutting up the stairs that would lead him to the third floor without any haste, leaving what was left of the crowd in stunned silence and various states of temper.
Ron for his part glared daggers at Malfoy’s retreating back, held in place only by a gaping Dean, Seamus and Neville, who didn’t want him to do anything to the Head Boy that he might or might not regret afterwards. Harry’s jaw dropped incredulously while Ginny stared with an expression similar to her boyfriend’s. Lavender had clamped one hand over her mouth and Parvati grinned with what seemed to be stunned adoration for her friend.
Some watched Malfoy’s smug expression as he left, following him with their eyes until he was out of sight. Others watched as Hermione looked distractedly around the Hall until she challengingly locked eyes with Ron, daring him to say or do anything, then suddenly headed up the stairs for her private room.
Blaise, Aaron, Chase and the other Slytherin students, among them a pair of Jamaican witches, had come in time to watch the kissing spectacle as well, gaping in awe or disbelieve at their Prince and how he’d managed to win that bet with a single action. Except for those who still hadn’t managed to let go of their blood status beliefs - those were shaking their heads with disgusted expressions and wrinkled noses.
So many people had seen the Head Students’ lip action, yet, Blaise was the only one to notice the expression of utter surprise and alarm that had flickered across his best friend’s fine features for half a heartbeat when he’d broken the kiss. He’d rarely seen that in Draco . . . something had just happened. Something really odd.
No wonder he was the only one to see, because to everybody else, the whole scene had seemed genuine - disturbing, but real nonetheless. It always did, because Draco really was an excellent actor. He had put up a rather impressing show with that kiss, but Blaise could tell the difference, and this time, it had been real emotion.
He was curious about what Draco would tell him about that - or if he would tell him about it. Pursing his lips in contemplation, he took a look around the hall; the shocked freeze of those still there had broken and people were whispering again.
Well then. Let the rumours begin. . . .
***°°°***
When the hum of voices grew louder, Ron just couldn’t take it anymore: he broke free of his friends’ grip and pushed past the shell-shocked Lavender, running up the stairs to seek the sanctuary of his bed again. Face red and blue eyes almost shooting bolts with rage, he stormed further up, passing that fucking asshole of a milky white Draco bloody sodden Malfoy. But not without shoulder-hitting the Slytherin roughly out of his way.
Other than that, the Weasley didn’t acknowledge Draco’s presence in any way, marching towards the next staircase at full speed. It really took all of the little self-restraint Ron possessed at that moment to not launch at the prick and beat him to a bloody pulp.
Draco merely grinned smugly at the raging redhead, which his effort of holding back showed clearly in the way he tensely sped up the stairs. Feeling nothing but glee, he bit back the cutting remark that threatened to slip off his acid tongue; a true and proper Malfoy enjoyed in silence . . . at least for a while.
And that while was gone the second his best friend walked up from behind, falling in step next to him. “Did I win that bet or what?” Draco grinned, grey eyes sparkling.
“Sure did - like a champ, mate!” Blaise smirked and patted the other on the back.
“I am the ultimate champ, dickhead.”
“Of course, Blondie.” The young men laughed as they made their way to the Slytherin Lounge in the Astronomy Tower to celebrate Draco’s victory. “Hey, we didn’t settle any reward, you never said what you wanted if you won the bet.”
Draco’s grin became malicious. “I don’t want any reward, mate. This time, I did it just for fun.”
Blaise regarded his best friend with a thoughtful expression. “For fun? You kissed Granger for fun, disregarding the possibility to be hexed into the next bloody millennium by the girl that’s pretty much in the high ranks of your ‘Least Favourite Persons’ list? Did I miss something?”
The blond snorted. “Yes, you did. I won a bet with this; I found a very nice and rumour provoking way to get back at Boy Wonder and the Weasel and - and that’s the most fun part - Granger kissed me back without anybody noticing the minor fight she put up in those first moments.” His expression was nothing but smug. “She will go crazy about those rumours.” I’ll make sure of that. . . .
Blaise wasn’t entirely convinced. “I know somebody who will go crazy as well and I’m sure you’re not going to like it. . . .”
Draco didn’t look worried in the least. “You mean Pansy?” At Blaises nod, Draco made a dismissive gesture. “She’ll understand - it’s only a bet after all. She knows it meant nothing.” The witch would be waiting for them with her girls in the Slytherin Room and he knew for a fact that she really got something from watching him kiss other girls. Besides, it was her who kissed Chase the night before. Why should he worry?
Blaise mentally shook his head at the blond, unable to give less thought to the emotion that had flickered across his best friend’s face minutes before. He had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t over by far.