Retribution (Drabble)
Title: Retribution
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,066
Notes: Written for elegantsundance's prompt at luvlikerocketz. Her prompt was Drabble: An old newspaper clipping; Humorous.
Retribution
“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Draco laughed out loud as he tossed one article to the side to reveal another. “This is just too funny, Granger.”
Hermione frowned. “It’s not that funny, Draco,” she pouted, hoping he’d get to the bottom of the stack already. She didn’t know why she had allowed him into her private trunk. She didn’t know why she thought giving him an inside look into her psyche would prove to be a good idea. She didn’t know why she was still enduring the torture that had been going on for the last twenty minutes as he casually perused each article, reading aloud most parts, and laughing like a hyena at her pain.
The only explanation was that she must be completely insane.
Or ridiculously in love.
He quickly read the next title aloud, completely ignoring her groan of despair. “Brightest witch shows just how bright she is.” His guffaw broke out the minute he looked at the picture. “What the bloody hell are you wearing?”
Hermione didn’t have to look to know what she was wearing in the picture. It was an oversized, bright yellow - okay, safety green, they called it safety green - hooded sweatshirt and fluorescent pink capri-style sweatpants. It was a horrible outfit and Hermione knew it.
In her defense, however, she had just left the gym and thought she’d be okay to walk three feet from the door and Apparate home. She should have known better. Since the end of the Second War, Hermione’s “celebrity” status had increased ten-fold. It was to be expected; you couldn’t be one-third of the “Golden Trio” and not expect to be followed around by reporters all day. What Hermione hadn’t planned on was all the negative publicity she had gotten over the years - all of it centering on her lack of fashion sense.
And it wasn’t that Hermione lacked fashion sense. Today she was wearing a nicely tailored, black pencil skirt and jacket over a crisp, white oxford. She looked professional enough for work, yet was comfortable enough to wear the clothing the rest of the evening when she got home. And she dressed this way nearly every day, or something of the like. It just so happened that her adoring paparazzi only felt it was necessary to take pictures of her and post them in the Prophet when she was having an off day.
Hermione knew they were few and far between, but it didn’t stop them from altering others to make them look like new.
She didn’t even know why she held onto the articles. Maybe to remind herself that she should never, ever dress like that in public again.
Hermione shook her head; at least Draco was almost finished reading the articles. There was a special surprise at the bottom of the stack for him. It was the only reason she was enduring this torture from her soon-to-be husband.
Draco’s snort of amusement broke into her thoughts and she turned her head to see which article he was on. A small smile crossed her lips when he read, “One-third of the Golden Trio or one-third of the Mix-Match Trio?” and snorted again.
“I’m glad you can find the humor in my suffering, Love,” she said with a bit of a smirk on her face, her mood seriously improving as she knew what the next article was. The article he had yet to see.
Draco looked up, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot about all these articles,” he said and looked over at her. “It’s a good thing I taught you how to dress.”
Hermione scoffed. Bloody prat. “I already knew how to dress appropriately, Draco Malfoy. They just happened to catch me on a couple of off days.”
Draco laughed as he gestured to the large pile littering their bed. “It looks like a bit more than a couple.”
She didn’t grace him with a response other than a simple lift of her brow. He wouldn’t have heard her anyway; he was already on his way to the last article.
She smiled. Finally, Mr. Perfect was about to get a taste of his own medicine. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t seen the article yet, but she was sure someone would have said something to him by now.
However, his lack of knowledge about the article was only going to work to Hermione’s benefit today. She had never been more proud of a Weasley/Potter/Zabini gag in her life. Well, at first she hadn’t been so thrilled. But that was before Draco had openly ridiculed her today. He was only getting what was coming to him.
She noted the smile already dancing on his face as he tossed the Mix-Match article onto the bed, to look at the last one in his hand. She watched how he read the words… once… twice… three times and with each pass over the bold lettering his smile turned upside down.
“What’s the matter, Love?” Hermione asked, leaning over his shoulder. “This one not as funny?”
Draco looked up at her shocked. “Who did this?” he asked, panic in his words.
Hermione rubbed a hand over his back soothingly. “Your groomsmen,” she answered, feigning sympathy. “I told you to behave at your bachelor party. It would have done you well to have listened to me.”
She looked down at the picture of Draco prancing around in the living room at Harry’s flat, a dress on over his black suit and a brunette wig hanging from his platinum head. Hermione knew he was pissed in the picture, but the way Blaise had captured him showed that he was simply having a jolly good time.
She held back her snicker as she read, “Granger to wed cross-dressing Malfoy!” and clucked her tongue.
Draco moved from the bed, fisting the article in one hand and his wand in the other. “I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?” Hermione asked innocently.
Draco looked at her and grunted. “I have some groomsmen to dismember,” he said, his eyes heated. “Love you.”
Hermione waved with a smile. “Love you, too. Don’t stay out too late.”
Draco didn’t respond as he turned on the spot and Apparated away with a loud crack. She chuckled once he had gone and started cleaning up the articles covering their bed.
She’d let the boys explain to Draco it was only a fake.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,066
Notes: Written for elegantsundance's prompt at luvlikerocketz. Her prompt was Drabble: An old newspaper clipping; Humorous.
Retribution
“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Draco laughed out loud as he tossed one article to the side to reveal another. “This is just too funny, Granger.”
Hermione frowned. “It’s not that funny, Draco,” she pouted, hoping he’d get to the bottom of the stack already. She didn’t know why she had allowed him into her private trunk. She didn’t know why she thought giving him an inside look into her psyche would prove to be a good idea. She didn’t know why she was still enduring the torture that had been going on for the last twenty minutes as he casually perused each article, reading aloud most parts, and laughing like a hyena at her pain.
The only explanation was that she must be completely insane.
Or ridiculously in love.
He quickly read the next title aloud, completely ignoring her groan of despair. “Brightest witch shows just how bright she is.” His guffaw broke out the minute he looked at the picture. “What the bloody hell are you wearing?”
Hermione didn’t have to look to know what she was wearing in the picture. It was an oversized, bright yellow - okay, safety green, they called it safety green - hooded sweatshirt and fluorescent pink capri-style sweatpants. It was a horrible outfit and Hermione knew it.
In her defense, however, she had just left the gym and thought she’d be okay to walk three feet from the door and Apparate home. She should have known better. Since the end of the Second War, Hermione’s “celebrity” status had increased ten-fold. It was to be expected; you couldn’t be one-third of the “Golden Trio” and not expect to be followed around by reporters all day. What Hermione hadn’t planned on was all the negative publicity she had gotten over the years - all of it centering on her lack of fashion sense.
And it wasn’t that Hermione lacked fashion sense. Today she was wearing a nicely tailored, black pencil skirt and jacket over a crisp, white oxford. She looked professional enough for work, yet was comfortable enough to wear the clothing the rest of the evening when she got home. And she dressed this way nearly every day, or something of the like. It just so happened that her adoring paparazzi only felt it was necessary to take pictures of her and post them in the Prophet when she was having an off day.
Hermione knew they were few and far between, but it didn’t stop them from altering others to make them look like new.
She didn’t even know why she held onto the articles. Maybe to remind herself that she should never, ever dress like that in public again.
Hermione shook her head; at least Draco was almost finished reading the articles. There was a special surprise at the bottom of the stack for him. It was the only reason she was enduring this torture from her soon-to-be husband.
Draco’s snort of amusement broke into her thoughts and she turned her head to see which article he was on. A small smile crossed her lips when he read, “One-third of the Golden Trio or one-third of the Mix-Match Trio?” and snorted again.
“I’m glad you can find the humor in my suffering, Love,” she said with a bit of a smirk on her face, her mood seriously improving as she knew what the next article was. The article he had yet to see.
Draco looked up, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot about all these articles,” he said and looked over at her. “It’s a good thing I taught you how to dress.”
Hermione scoffed. Bloody prat. “I already knew how to dress appropriately, Draco Malfoy. They just happened to catch me on a couple of off days.”
Draco laughed as he gestured to the large pile littering their bed. “It looks like a bit more than a couple.”
She didn’t grace him with a response other than a simple lift of her brow. He wouldn’t have heard her anyway; he was already on his way to the last article.
She smiled. Finally, Mr. Perfect was about to get a taste of his own medicine. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t seen the article yet, but she was sure someone would have said something to him by now.
However, his lack of knowledge about the article was only going to work to Hermione’s benefit today. She had never been more proud of a Weasley/Potter/Zabini gag in her life. Well, at first she hadn’t been so thrilled. But that was before Draco had openly ridiculed her today. He was only getting what was coming to him.
She noted the smile already dancing on his face as he tossed the Mix-Match article onto the bed, to look at the last one in his hand. She watched how he read the words… once… twice… three times and with each pass over the bold lettering his smile turned upside down.
“What’s the matter, Love?” Hermione asked, leaning over his shoulder. “This one not as funny?”
Draco looked up at her shocked. “Who did this?” he asked, panic in his words.
Hermione rubbed a hand over his back soothingly. “Your groomsmen,” she answered, feigning sympathy. “I told you to behave at your bachelor party. It would have done you well to have listened to me.”
She looked down at the picture of Draco prancing around in the living room at Harry’s flat, a dress on over his black suit and a brunette wig hanging from his platinum head. Hermione knew he was pissed in the picture, but the way Blaise had captured him showed that he was simply having a jolly good time.
She held back her snicker as she read, “Granger to wed cross-dressing Malfoy!” and clucked her tongue.
Draco moved from the bed, fisting the article in one hand and his wand in the other. “I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?” Hermione asked innocently.
Draco looked at her and grunted. “I have some groomsmen to dismember,” he said, his eyes heated. “Love you.”
Hermione waved with a smile. “Love you, too. Don’t stay out too late.”
Draco didn’t respond as he turned on the spot and Apparated away with a loud crack. She chuckled once he had gone and started cleaning up the articles covering their bed.
She’d let the boys explain to Draco it was only a fake.