FIVE: Once a Slag, Always a Slag (Nothing is Sweeter than Revenge)
Title: FIVE: Once a Slag, Always a Slag
Story: Nothing is Sweeter than Revenge
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content
Summary: Draco Malfoy may have thought he won when he seduced Hermione Granger. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated the vindictive side of Hermione and her friends. Sequel to Trouble.
FIVE
Once a Slag, Always a Slag
The full thirty seconds of silence following my outrageous outburst is broken by, "Hermione, you slag!"
Under normal circumstances being called a slag would make me do one of two things:
1. Cringe, mumble something about having to use the bathroom, and leave the premises immediately.
Or...
2. Gather up all my Gryffindor courage and my self-suppressed anger, and then let loose like a category five hurricane on the fucktard - friend or foe - who called me a slag.
Of course, the first option is the total opposite reaction the Hermione Granger everyone knows and loves would make. Yet I find it truly effective when I'm around a large group of people - my coworkers for example - who should not, under any circumstances, be subjected to my wrath.
For example, last year's Halloween party for work was a masquerade-type affair. People were supposed to dress in a Halloween costume of their choice, but wear a mask to conceal their identity.
I got pretty excited; ever since I saw that American Muggle movie Mean Girls I have wanted to wear nothing but lingerie and some sort of animal ears and call it a costume. Those girls, as slutty as they were, looked like they had a bloody excellent time and I wanted nothing more than to have a bloody excellent time as well. I am, after all, only human! But, of course, being the Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter, and one-third of the infamous Golden Trio, I can't get away with something like that.
Could you imagine? The next day’s Daily Prophet headline would probably read something like:
Shocking! Hermione Granger dressed down…to her knickers! (photos inside)
I shudder at the thought.
Anyway, because the Halloween party was going masquerade, I felt like I could get away with finally trying something new, something daring. And, believe me, I was daring! I wore a skimpy, black, silk chemise with a long cats tail attached, pointed black and pink kitty ears on top of my head, and a very bejeweled black and pink kitty mask. I even spent hours perfecting a hair curling charm, making sure my hair didn’t look like its normal straight style, or the atrocious curly fuzz ball it was back in school.
I can’t begin to explain to you how sexy I felt. And, not to be overly conceited, but I looked sexy as well. Men - married and unmarried - couldn’t keep their eyes, and in some cases their hands, off me. I never sat out a dance and I was propositioned more than a dozen times (I said no, of course). It was so easy and fun being someone completely different - the mystery behind it all was, well, a turn on - and I was more than determined to ride that wave for as long as I could.
But what is it they say? All good things must come to an end? Yeah, well that’s putting it likely. Things went from great to hell in a hand basket in less than five minutes. I had had one too many drinks and danced one too many dances. I needed to go to the loo; it just couldn’t be ignored any longer.
When I got into a stall I decided it would be okay to take my mask off for a second. I needed to, badly. Not thinking to cast cushioning and anti-itch charms before leaving my flat, the mask was rubbing roughly against my face. I needed to take it off; my face needed to breathe.
Guh!
When I think back now, I don’t even know how I could have forgotten to put it back on. I should have noticed that my face was still feeling pretty good - breathing and all - rather than the constant itch I had been dealing with all night.
Oh and let’s not forget I actually looked right at myself in the mirror over the wink while I washed my hands! It didn’t even register! Ugh!
So, to make a long story short (too late), when I exited the loo and stepped back out onto the dance floor Sheila Anne, the department secretary and leader of the so-called Ministry Gossip Mill, was the first to notice me…unfortunately. She squealed in shocked excitement when she saw me and marked my entrance with, “Hermione Granger?! Sweet Merlin, she’s the kitty slag!”
Anyone within earshot, which was nearly all 200 people in attendance, turned to see me, red face and all. I wanted to do so many things at that point in time, but hexing Sheila Anne into oblivion topped the list. Instead, it took everything I had to just turn, walk back out of the ballroom, and Apparate home. Sheila Anne may have made it out of the ballroom unscathed that night, but the Ficus beside our door was obliterated…and I didn’t even use my wand.
Every now and then some idiot who thinks he’s being funny will think it’s a good idea to make a comment about that Halloween party and my choice of costume. Afterwards, they can’t sit down for 24 hours without screaming in agony.
Hmmphf.
I move my flustered thoughts to Ron, who is the reason I’ve been drudging up old memories of being called a slag. Ron is a great friend, so under normal circumstances I wouldn’t think twice about ripping him a new one for calling me such a horrific name. I’d scream and curse and probably hex his homosexual ass from here to Timbuktu, but I’m going to refrain.
After all, I deserve to be called a slag tonight more than I ever have.
“Wow,” Ginny whispers.
“I know,” I murmur, my voice registering the defeat my body and mind feel. “I honestly don’t know what came over me. I should never have done it.”
I’m staring at my hands folded in my lap and wring them together. I can’t bring myself to look up at them and see their faces. It’s been plenty long enough now; the appalling act has to have registered with them fully. I don’t think I can handle seeing their disappointment.
“Wow!” This time Ginny’s voice isn’t at all timid. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” The sheer admiration in Ginny’s voice is the only thing that makes me lift my head. The look of animated respect on her face is enough to throw me completely off kilter and into the abyss of confusion.
“I-I-I’m sorry?” I don’t let either of them interrupt me, though they both have their mouths poised to respond. “I did a horrible thing.” I can hear my voice getting shriller with each word. “I slept with-with-with Malfoy!” The bile is rising in my throat. “He-he-he made a bet with Zabini that he could get in my pants.” Revulsion…pure revulsion; it’s all I can feel for myself right now and it pushes me on. “It’s one of the vilest things I’ve ever done with one of the vilest people we know. I-“
But Ginny interrupts me, “Someone stop her before she passes out.” I am not so far gone that I don’t note the sarcasm in her voice. This I had not prepared myself for; this being a humoured Ginny and an excited Ron.
An excited Ron? Oh, Merlin, what is the world coming to? He should be furious with me, regardless of his prattling on all evening about shagging the Slytherin monster.
I expect him to be furious with me. It’s how our world turns. I do something stupid, Ron gets furious with me. He does something stupid, and I get furious with him. It works. We’ve been doing it for years. So what, all of a sudden, has changed that dynamic? I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I don’t do change well.
Oh Merlin, I’m going to start hyperventilating again. I must be in some alternate universe or something. Yes, that’s the only explanation for all of this; the only explanation. Now, how do I get out?!
Stop. Breathe. I’m getting myself all worked up for nothing. I still have one avenue left - Old Faithful - Harry.
Oh yes, Harry will be disgusted with m-
Where is Harry?
“He’s in the toilets again,” Ron says with a smirk on his face, reading my mind.
I grumble, “Of course he is.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, but I should have just gone straight to bed once Harry Apparated he and I back here. It could have saved me all this pain and humiliation. Now, instead, I’m going to have to sit here and explain the whole ordeal to my strangely excited best friends.
No. No, I don’t have to do that.
I can escape.
I look left and right and my path to the hallway is clear in both directions. I can probably pull a fake move towards Ginny - who is to my right - and throw both of them off, and then dodge to the left and make it to my room before they’ve recovered.
Yes, that could work. I check left and then right again.
Before I can put my plan into action, Ginny crosses the short distance between us and sits down beside me. Smooth Hermione, real smooth.
“So,” she drags out the word and I cringe. I know what’s coming next and I really, really don’t want to talk about it. “How was it?” she asks.
Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear her…
Two seconds of silence goes by and Ron rolls his eyes. “C’mon Hermione, don’t hold back. We’re dying to know.”
“Huh?” Someone is going to wonder when I lost the ability to form intelligible sentences. I have a very simplistic answer for them:
When my friends turned into pod people...pod people who think me shagging Draco Malfoy is the best thing since sliced bread.
“Don’t play dumb, Hermione, it’s not your best look,” Ginny adds with a playful grin. I really want to hex it off her face right now. “Is he really the Slytherin Sex God all the girls talked about in school?”
No. No, no, no. I knew it was coming. Subconsciously I’ve been waiting for it ever since Ron called me a slag in, what I now recognize as a playful tone. But, it’s just so wrong. Don’t they understand? Draco Malfoy used me as a bet. And not just a tiny bet; it was a mother of a bet. And from what I remember of the ferret from school is that he doesn’t bet unless he’s sure he’s going to win. This can only mean that he knew - he knew - that I was going to shag him no matter what. It’s sickening and disturbing to even imagine that he knows me better than I know myself. I feel physically sick just thinking about it.
I shake my head. If I’m completely honest with myself, it’s easy to say he is a better shag than any girl could have explained back in school. Sweet Merlin, I still quake just thinking about the way his fingers grazed over my most intimate areas and his thick co-
I shudder. Stop, Hermione, stop. It doesn’t matter how good he was, it doesn’t. I’ll be forever tainted now because of what I did and what he got in return.
“I’m sure he is.” Ron is speaking directly to Ginny now, almost like I’m not even here. It won’t last long. “I mean, look at his physique. His body is so hard.” I gulp. “And those hands...you’ve seen them; long fingers, built for pleasure.” I’m pretty sure my face is redder than Ron’s hair.
Ginny chuckles, “Well, let’s find out for sure.” I know she’s looking at me now, but I’m staring at the carpet, willing the memories to stop flooding in and causing desire to pool in the pit of my stomach. “Hermione?”
It comes out before I can stop it. “You have no idea, guys. It was...incredible doesn’t even feel like a strong enough word to describe it.”
Ron is on the edge of his seat. “How about euphoric?”
“Orgasmic?” Ginny adds with a snicker.
And what comes out of my mouth makes me want to drown myself in hot lava…I giggle.
Merlin, I giggle like a bloody schoolgirl with a crush on her DADA professor and we all know I’ve already been down that road…twice.
But I can’t stop myself.
“It’s like all of those put together,” I say through another fit of giggles. “Orgcrediphoric.” This causes us all to break into hysterics.
Yeah, I have officially lost my mind. I have to be insane. I’m laughing and talking about Malfoy like he didn’t screw me in an alleyway (albeit a really great screw) and then get a thousand-galleons from his best mate for doing it. Oh, but it doesn’t stop. The words just keep coming (once I stop giggle like a loony patient), along with all those intense feelings I had when he was inside of me.
“He is everything and more than what you would imagine him to be. His body is hard, perfectly sculpted like a Greek god, yet warm and sensual.” I let the words roll off my tongue while my mind wanders back to last night’s events. I can feel everything all over again and it makes me shudder. “And, yes, his fingers...they really can work magic. It was the most unbelievable shag I’ve ever had.”
Ginny and Ron are both silent when I finish, but not for long. “You are a slag!” Ron cries, humour and awe laced in his words.
I giggle, “I know.”
Merlin, I need to stop the giggling. It’s not right.
Ginny pulls her feet up underneath her and smiles. “Would you do it again?”
Now that’s a question I wasn’t expecting. Would I shag Draco Malfoy again?
The answer should be a big, fat NO!
“Yes.” Wow. That was interesting.
“I knew it!” Ron shouted, his excitement doubling. “He really is that good.”
“He is,” I say, but quickly add, “But that answer is really contingent upon the fact that I could forget he used me as a bet.” I frown “Which is not bloody likely.”
And finally, in that moment, something clicks. I realize I want nothing more than to see Malfoy burn. I will do anything and everything in my power to watch him beg for mercy. Sure, I’ve spent the entire day plotting my revenge against him, but there was always something holding me back.
Ginny, asking me that question, made me realize what it was and admitting it out loud made me disgusted with myself. I would, if given a do-over, would shag him again. That shouldn’t be. It should never have even been an option.
I am despicable.
It is imperative that I make him suffer. He needs to remember, for the rest of his life, what it feels like to feel my wrath.
However, Merlin knows, I need some help in that department. I never have been very vindictive.
“Well, don’t hate me, Hermione,” Ron says leaning back in his chair, “but I’d still shag him.” I shake my head at him, though I’m not mad. He’s just being Ron. “Is there a sign-up sheet for that or something?”
I can’t help myself…I laugh with him.
“Oh, sweet mother of Merlin.” Ginny’s voice sounds far away when she whispers out those five words, stopping our laughing. I look over and she’s staring into the fireplace, her eyes wide and unblinking. Honestly, she looks a little deranged.
“Gin?” Ron looks at his sister apprehensively and the glances at me. I can see my concern mirrored in his eyes.
I move my gaze from Ron to Ginny. “Are you alright?” I ask.
The corners of her lips twitch into a Slytherin-esque smirk and I see her eyes twinkle in delight. Now I’m really scared.
Until she finally speaks.
“I have it,” she says and then finally looks over at Ron and me.
“You have what?” I ask, worried that she’s been Imperiused or something; the abnormal, unseeing glaze of her eyes is a little shocking.
“The revenge,” she answers and her smirk breaks into a full-on, demented smile. I shudder; it’s creepy.
“What?” Ron asks, slightly confused. I’m not confused. I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Ginny’s face finally clears and she stares at us, still with that crazy smile on her face, but looking much more alert. “I know how we’re going to get back at Malfoy.”
My mind starts going back over the conversation she, Harry and I had earlier today. I’m hoping this has nothing to do with the Knight Bus.
Sweet Merlin.
SIX: It's Go Time
Story: Nothing is Sweeter than Revenge
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content
Summary: Draco Malfoy may have thought he won when he seduced Hermione Granger. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated the vindictive side of Hermione and her friends. Sequel to Trouble.
FIVE
Once a Slag, Always a Slag
The full thirty seconds of silence following my outrageous outburst is broken by, "Hermione, you slag!"
Under normal circumstances being called a slag would make me do one of two things:
1. Cringe, mumble something about having to use the bathroom, and leave the premises immediately.
Or...
2. Gather up all my Gryffindor courage and my self-suppressed anger, and then let loose like a category five hurricane on the fucktard - friend or foe - who called me a slag.
Of course, the first option is the total opposite reaction the Hermione Granger everyone knows and loves would make. Yet I find it truly effective when I'm around a large group of people - my coworkers for example - who should not, under any circumstances, be subjected to my wrath.
For example, last year's Halloween party for work was a masquerade-type affair. People were supposed to dress in a Halloween costume of their choice, but wear a mask to conceal their identity.
I got pretty excited; ever since I saw that American Muggle movie Mean Girls I have wanted to wear nothing but lingerie and some sort of animal ears and call it a costume. Those girls, as slutty as they were, looked like they had a bloody excellent time and I wanted nothing more than to have a bloody excellent time as well. I am, after all, only human! But, of course, being the Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter, and one-third of the infamous Golden Trio, I can't get away with something like that.
Could you imagine? The next day’s Daily Prophet headline would probably read something like:
Shocking! Hermione Granger dressed down…to her knickers! (photos inside)
I shudder at the thought.
Anyway, because the Halloween party was going masquerade, I felt like I could get away with finally trying something new, something daring. And, believe me, I was daring! I wore a skimpy, black, silk chemise with a long cats tail attached, pointed black and pink kitty ears on top of my head, and a very bejeweled black and pink kitty mask. I even spent hours perfecting a hair curling charm, making sure my hair didn’t look like its normal straight style, or the atrocious curly fuzz ball it was back in school.
I can’t begin to explain to you how sexy I felt. And, not to be overly conceited, but I looked sexy as well. Men - married and unmarried - couldn’t keep their eyes, and in some cases their hands, off me. I never sat out a dance and I was propositioned more than a dozen times (I said no, of course). It was so easy and fun being someone completely different - the mystery behind it all was, well, a turn on - and I was more than determined to ride that wave for as long as I could.
But what is it they say? All good things must come to an end? Yeah, well that’s putting it likely. Things went from great to hell in a hand basket in less than five minutes. I had had one too many drinks and danced one too many dances. I needed to go to the loo; it just couldn’t be ignored any longer.
When I got into a stall I decided it would be okay to take my mask off for a second. I needed to, badly. Not thinking to cast cushioning and anti-itch charms before leaving my flat, the mask was rubbing roughly against my face. I needed to take it off; my face needed to breathe.
Guh!
When I think back now, I don’t even know how I could have forgotten to put it back on. I should have noticed that my face was still feeling pretty good - breathing and all - rather than the constant itch I had been dealing with all night.
Oh and let’s not forget I actually looked right at myself in the mirror over the wink while I washed my hands! It didn’t even register! Ugh!
So, to make a long story short (too late), when I exited the loo and stepped back out onto the dance floor Sheila Anne, the department secretary and leader of the so-called Ministry Gossip Mill, was the first to notice me…unfortunately. She squealed in shocked excitement when she saw me and marked my entrance with, “Hermione Granger?! Sweet Merlin, she’s the kitty slag!”
Anyone within earshot, which was nearly all 200 people in attendance, turned to see me, red face and all. I wanted to do so many things at that point in time, but hexing Sheila Anne into oblivion topped the list. Instead, it took everything I had to just turn, walk back out of the ballroom, and Apparate home. Sheila Anne may have made it out of the ballroom unscathed that night, but the Ficus beside our door was obliterated…and I didn’t even use my wand.
Every now and then some idiot who thinks he’s being funny will think it’s a good idea to make a comment about that Halloween party and my choice of costume. Afterwards, they can’t sit down for 24 hours without screaming in agony.
Hmmphf.
I move my flustered thoughts to Ron, who is the reason I’ve been drudging up old memories of being called a slag. Ron is a great friend, so under normal circumstances I wouldn’t think twice about ripping him a new one for calling me such a horrific name. I’d scream and curse and probably hex his homosexual ass from here to Timbuktu, but I’m going to refrain.
After all, I deserve to be called a slag tonight more than I ever have.
“Wow,” Ginny whispers.
“I know,” I murmur, my voice registering the defeat my body and mind feel. “I honestly don’t know what came over me. I should never have done it.”
I’m staring at my hands folded in my lap and wring them together. I can’t bring myself to look up at them and see their faces. It’s been plenty long enough now; the appalling act has to have registered with them fully. I don’t think I can handle seeing their disappointment.
“Wow!” This time Ginny’s voice isn’t at all timid. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” The sheer admiration in Ginny’s voice is the only thing that makes me lift my head. The look of animated respect on her face is enough to throw me completely off kilter and into the abyss of confusion.
“I-I-I’m sorry?” I don’t let either of them interrupt me, though they both have their mouths poised to respond. “I did a horrible thing.” I can hear my voice getting shriller with each word. “I slept with-with-with Malfoy!” The bile is rising in my throat. “He-he-he made a bet with Zabini that he could get in my pants.” Revulsion…pure revulsion; it’s all I can feel for myself right now and it pushes me on. “It’s one of the vilest things I’ve ever done with one of the vilest people we know. I-“
But Ginny interrupts me, “Someone stop her before she passes out.” I am not so far gone that I don’t note the sarcasm in her voice. This I had not prepared myself for; this being a humoured Ginny and an excited Ron.
An excited Ron? Oh, Merlin, what is the world coming to? He should be furious with me, regardless of his prattling on all evening about shagging the Slytherin monster.
I expect him to be furious with me. It’s how our world turns. I do something stupid, Ron gets furious with me. He does something stupid, and I get furious with him. It works. We’ve been doing it for years. So what, all of a sudden, has changed that dynamic? I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I don’t do change well.
Oh Merlin, I’m going to start hyperventilating again. I must be in some alternate universe or something. Yes, that’s the only explanation for all of this; the only explanation. Now, how do I get out?!
Stop. Breathe. I’m getting myself all worked up for nothing. I still have one avenue left - Old Faithful - Harry.
Oh yes, Harry will be disgusted with m-
Where is Harry?
“He’s in the toilets again,” Ron says with a smirk on his face, reading my mind.
I grumble, “Of course he is.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, but I should have just gone straight to bed once Harry Apparated he and I back here. It could have saved me all this pain and humiliation. Now, instead, I’m going to have to sit here and explain the whole ordeal to my strangely excited best friends.
No. No, I don’t have to do that.
I can escape.
I look left and right and my path to the hallway is clear in both directions. I can probably pull a fake move towards Ginny - who is to my right - and throw both of them off, and then dodge to the left and make it to my room before they’ve recovered.
Yes, that could work. I check left and then right again.
Before I can put my plan into action, Ginny crosses the short distance between us and sits down beside me. Smooth Hermione, real smooth.
“So,” she drags out the word and I cringe. I know what’s coming next and I really, really don’t want to talk about it. “How was it?” she asks.
Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear her…
Two seconds of silence goes by and Ron rolls his eyes. “C’mon Hermione, don’t hold back. We’re dying to know.”
“Huh?” Someone is going to wonder when I lost the ability to form intelligible sentences. I have a very simplistic answer for them:
When my friends turned into pod people...pod people who think me shagging Draco Malfoy is the best thing since sliced bread.
“Don’t play dumb, Hermione, it’s not your best look,” Ginny adds with a playful grin. I really want to hex it off her face right now. “Is he really the Slytherin Sex God all the girls talked about in school?”
No. No, no, no. I knew it was coming. Subconsciously I’ve been waiting for it ever since Ron called me a slag in, what I now recognize as a playful tone. But, it’s just so wrong. Don’t they understand? Draco Malfoy used me as a bet. And not just a tiny bet; it was a mother of a bet. And from what I remember of the ferret from school is that he doesn’t bet unless he’s sure he’s going to win. This can only mean that he knew - he knew - that I was going to shag him no matter what. It’s sickening and disturbing to even imagine that he knows me better than I know myself. I feel physically sick just thinking about it.
I shake my head. If I’m completely honest with myself, it’s easy to say he is a better shag than any girl could have explained back in school. Sweet Merlin, I still quake just thinking about the way his fingers grazed over my most intimate areas and his thick co-
I shudder. Stop, Hermione, stop. It doesn’t matter how good he was, it doesn’t. I’ll be forever tainted now because of what I did and what he got in return.
“I’m sure he is.” Ron is speaking directly to Ginny now, almost like I’m not even here. It won’t last long. “I mean, look at his physique. His body is so hard.” I gulp. “And those hands...you’ve seen them; long fingers, built for pleasure.” I’m pretty sure my face is redder than Ron’s hair.
Ginny chuckles, “Well, let’s find out for sure.” I know she’s looking at me now, but I’m staring at the carpet, willing the memories to stop flooding in and causing desire to pool in the pit of my stomach. “Hermione?”
It comes out before I can stop it. “You have no idea, guys. It was...incredible doesn’t even feel like a strong enough word to describe it.”
Ron is on the edge of his seat. “How about euphoric?”
“Orgasmic?” Ginny adds with a snicker.
And what comes out of my mouth makes me want to drown myself in hot lava…I giggle.
Merlin, I giggle like a bloody schoolgirl with a crush on her DADA professor and we all know I’ve already been down that road…twice.
But I can’t stop myself.
“It’s like all of those put together,” I say through another fit of giggles. “Orgcrediphoric.” This causes us all to break into hysterics.
Yeah, I have officially lost my mind. I have to be insane. I’m laughing and talking about Malfoy like he didn’t screw me in an alleyway (albeit a really great screw) and then get a thousand-galleons from his best mate for doing it. Oh, but it doesn’t stop. The words just keep coming (once I stop giggle like a loony patient), along with all those intense feelings I had when he was inside of me.
“He is everything and more than what you would imagine him to be. His body is hard, perfectly sculpted like a Greek god, yet warm and sensual.” I let the words roll off my tongue while my mind wanders back to last night’s events. I can feel everything all over again and it makes me shudder. “And, yes, his fingers...they really can work magic. It was the most unbelievable shag I’ve ever had.”
Ginny and Ron are both silent when I finish, but not for long. “You are a slag!” Ron cries, humour and awe laced in his words.
I giggle, “I know.”
Merlin, I need to stop the giggling. It’s not right.
Ginny pulls her feet up underneath her and smiles. “Would you do it again?”
Now that’s a question I wasn’t expecting. Would I shag Draco Malfoy again?
The answer should be a big, fat NO!
“Yes.” Wow. That was interesting.
“I knew it!” Ron shouted, his excitement doubling. “He really is that good.”
“He is,” I say, but quickly add, “But that answer is really contingent upon the fact that I could forget he used me as a bet.” I frown “Which is not bloody likely.”
And finally, in that moment, something clicks. I realize I want nothing more than to see Malfoy burn. I will do anything and everything in my power to watch him beg for mercy. Sure, I’ve spent the entire day plotting my revenge against him, but there was always something holding me back.
Ginny, asking me that question, made me realize what it was and admitting it out loud made me disgusted with myself. I would, if given a do-over, would shag him again. That shouldn’t be. It should never have even been an option.
I am despicable.
It is imperative that I make him suffer. He needs to remember, for the rest of his life, what it feels like to feel my wrath.
However, Merlin knows, I need some help in that department. I never have been very vindictive.
“Well, don’t hate me, Hermione,” Ron says leaning back in his chair, “but I’d still shag him.” I shake my head at him, though I’m not mad. He’s just being Ron. “Is there a sign-up sheet for that or something?”
I can’t help myself…I laugh with him.
“Oh, sweet mother of Merlin.” Ginny’s voice sounds far away when she whispers out those five words, stopping our laughing. I look over and she’s staring into the fireplace, her eyes wide and unblinking. Honestly, she looks a little deranged.
“Gin?” Ron looks at his sister apprehensively and the glances at me. I can see my concern mirrored in his eyes.
I move my gaze from Ron to Ginny. “Are you alright?” I ask.
The corners of her lips twitch into a Slytherin-esque smirk and I see her eyes twinkle in delight. Now I’m really scared.
Until she finally speaks.
“I have it,” she says and then finally looks over at Ron and me.
“You have what?” I ask, worried that she’s been Imperiused or something; the abnormal, unseeing glaze of her eyes is a little shocking.
“The revenge,” she answers and her smirk breaks into a full-on, demented smile. I shudder; it’s creepy.
“What?” Ron asks, slightly confused. I’m not confused. I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Ginny’s face finally clears and she stares at us, still with that crazy smile on her face, but looking much more alert. “I know how we’re going to get back at Malfoy.”
My mind starts going back over the conversation she, Harry and I had earlier today. I’m hoping this has nothing to do with the Knight Bus.
Sweet Merlin.
SIX: It's Go Time