Viva Revenge, Part 6/? "Always a Bridesmaid"
Title: Always a Bridesmaid (Part 6/? of Viva Revenge)
Author: Thea Witchiepooh
Pairing/Characters: Hermione, Colin Creevey, Mitch-icent, Draco, Pansy
Rating: PG-13 (for some language)
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters. This silly plot is mine.
Summary: The last piece is about to fall in place. (Sequel to Friendly Fire.)
Everything was falling into place.
Soon after Ron had unknowingly given his consent to (as Draco liked to refer to it) "the mad muggle odyssey" Pansy had followed fast. The meme had been right up her alley, as there was nothing Pansy enjoyed more than talking incessantly about herself. In fact, she'd replied with none of the hesitancy that Ron had shown.
Harry and Ginny had been more of a challenge, but eventually they'd been conned as well. Now only one holdout remained: Mitch-icent Bulstrode.
A number of attempts to deceive him by mmail had failed, mainly because he wasn't naive. Usually Hermione would admire healthy skepticism, but at the moment it was rather frustrating. Mitchell had been the mastermind of the meddlesome quintet's privacy-breaching violation. If they didn't get him, they may as well not bother with the others.
She and Draco had decided a more personal approach would be necessary, which is why Hermione found herself sitting on a Saturday afternoon at Moony's--the quaint Diagon Alley cafe that Lupin and Tonks had opened a few years after the war. She was waiting for the arrival of Mitchell and Colin Creevey. In the guise of convincing Mitchell to hire Colin to photograph the wedding, she would get him to sign the magical contract.
Hermione was also hoping to get more specific details on the Vegas plans. Once everyone was bound to the agreement, the next step would be when and how to spring the "road trip from hell" (as Colin liked to refer to it) on their unsuspecting friends. The conventional wisdom was leaning toward creating a Portkey to trigger the guilty parties' "sentence" sometime between their arrival in Las Vegas and the wedding. The most likely opportunity would be the night of the respective stag and hen parties, when their guard would be down, thanks to the wonders of intoxication.
One thing the scheming duo had in their favor was timing. While the exact dates weren't set, Pansy and Mitchell had insisted that the festivities take place over a two-week period in June of the following year (the holiday season was just around the corner, so they had about seven months to prepare). That meant vengeance could be done, but not at the expense of the couple's wedding or honeymoon. Draco and Hermione wanted bloody revenge, but they didn't have a death wish. And interfering directly with the nuptials surely qualified as one.
****
Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet as Colin arrived. He sat down next to her and whispered, “I've just been by the Weasley shop and everything is set." Then he placed the faux contract in front of her.
She glanced at it briefly, noticing the keywords that had been interspersed throughout. She snickered as she read select passages such as, “All photographic equipment to be stored in Winnebago Journey,” and her personal favorite, “Mr. Creevey to be assisted by Franklin D. Hoover," (as in the Dam).
Her perusal of the document ended abruptly as Mitchell burst into the restaurant carrying a large portfolio and loudly throwing it on the table in front of her (just barely giving her time to move the contract out of the way).
“Darling,” Mitchell gushed, “I’m so thrilled to see you, I desperately need your opinion.” With a flourish, he opened up the portfolio.
Hermione looked down at several muggle-style movie images. Or at least, that’s what she thought they were at first. On closer inspection, she realized they were wedding pictures modeled on mostly famous muggle films. Among the counterfeit portraits displayed before her she recognized “Star Wars,” “The Lord of the Rings,” “Casablanca,” “The Matrix,” “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Gone With the Wind,” “The Big Lebowski,” (an odd inclusion, she thought) and astoundingly, “The Beastmaster.”
“Oh my god!” yelled Hermione, forgetting for a moment she was in the presence of pagans. “The fucking Beastmaster?”
“Is that a good one?” Mitchell asked innocently. Colin, who like Hermione had once seen the fromage-encrusted men in loincloths “classic” started to laugh.
While Hermione was all for seeing her friends humiliated, (strictly for revenge purposes), this was going too far. Not only since these ridiculous muggle rip-off motifs wouldn’t be by her hand (and where’s the fun in that?) but also because it appeared that everyone at the wedding had to take part. A quick perusal of the photos showed the themes extended well beyond the bridal parties. She looked at Mitchell with a sober expression. “You can’t seriously be considering any of these.”
“Why not?” he asked.
Temporarily distracted from her mission of snagging the witchard into the contract, she answered, “Because it’s your wedding day! Do you really want to look back on it and see you were dressed as,” she picked up the photo from the bowling friendly “Big Lebowski” and shook it in front of him, “The Dude?”
Mitchell shrugged off her protest. “Oh, don’t be such a pill, Granger. Pansy and I have the rest of our lives to be proper or dignified. I want to celebrate our union, not act like it’s a tea social. It’ll be fanbloodytastic!”
“Well it will certainly make my job more enjoyable,” interjected Colin, who thankfully reminded Hermione of why they were there in the first place.
“Right we’ll get to that in a minute, first I need help narrowing down our choices. I’ve never seen any of these.” He sorted through the shots. When Colin and Hermione failed to provide quick input, he glared at them impatiently. “Out with it! Do I go for-and he read from the captions, “swashbuckling space hero” (Han Solo) or would I make a better, “tantalizing tamer” (the titular character Dar from “The Beastmaster.”)
Hermione groaned. There was no way she would ever put on one of the Sheena-like barely-there costumes that went along with the sword-and-sorcery fantasy film. Of those presented in the portfolio, she figured “The Lord of the Rings” provided the least offensive options.
She grabbed it from the pile. “I vote for ‘ethereal elvish beauty,’ (an Arwen ensemble) for Pansy and ‘ruggedly regal’ (Aragorn) for you,” she suggested.
“Hmm.” Mitchell considered. “I was sort of leaning toward beastie boy,” he said evilly.
“Well you’d certainly have memorable photographs,” noted Colin, still trying to steer him back to the contract. (Hermione was never a huge fan of the older Creevey brother, but she had to admire his tenacity.)
“Alright, I take the hint,” Mitchell whined. “Let me see the contract.”
Hermione perked up and handed it over. He read through it slowly (too slowly, causing Hermione to sweat nervously and bite her ever-maligned lip).
“What the fuck is a Winnebago Journey? Sounds expensive,” he looked at Colin. “Unlike some people’s boyfriends,” he jerked his head toward Hermione, “I’m not made of Galleons.”
Colin was obviously prepared for this question and the concerns about cost. “You want Pansy to be happy, right? You want it to be brilliant?”
“Of course.”
“Well then trust me, I’ll need the Winnebago. It’s a state of the art storage facility. Without it my equipment runs a huge risk of damage. And if that happens, you’re fucked. Not only would you be liable, but your lovely betrothed would be gutted and quite likely rip your well-paid-for balls off.”
Mitchell winced. “Well, when you put it that way, where do I sign?”
Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was nearly dancing with excitement in her seat. Mitchell signed and handed the parchment over to Colin. They all stood up.
The co-conspirator shook Mitchell’s hand, and then surreptitiously winked Hermione's way as he folded the contract and placed it inside his robes. “Well then, I’ve got to get back on set, we’re shooting a new episode. Great to see you both.” He crinkled his brow as if concentrating on something and then added, “I’d go with ‘The Beastmaster,' you can’t pass up a chance to see the witches in skimpy animal skin!”
“Creevey!” Hermione narrowed her eyes and would have fully chastised the little turd, but he breezed out the door before she had a chance.
She sat back down, slowly becoming resigned to the idea that even with the plot now well on its way to success, the price for payback would be high.
Mitchell was examining her closely, like a biologist studying bacteria in a petri dish. “So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I have an important question to ask you.”
Hermione stiffened. This couldn’t be good.
****
While Mitchell Bulstrode's fate was being sealed and Hermione was wondering if it was worth the bother, Draco was sitting in his floor-to-ceiling window-lined office, composing a letter to Severus Snape.
His former potions professor had dropped off the face of Wizarding society shortly after being exonerated for the death of Albus Dumbledore. (Snape had been able to prove he’d been acting under the orders of the old Hogwarts Headmaster, who had known of the Unbreakable Vow and was in fact mortally wounded before the killing curse was ever cast, on that fateful night long ago.)
Since his disappearance, he and Draco had stayed in sporadic contact, though the younger wizard had no knowledge of where Snape lived or what he was doing. It was widely rumored that he’d moved to Tibet, seeking solace in the quiet of a Buddhist monastery. For though he had been legally cleared of all culpability, he still felt responsible.
A knock on the door disturbed Draco from his task. “Yes?” he said, clearly put off.
His assistant Candice popped her head in. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Malfoy, but a Ms. Parkinson is here.”
He grimaced. What could Pansy want? He hoped there were no cracks in the devilish armor he’d constructed with Hermione. “What does she want?”
Draco heard the witch’s impatient voice from behind his assistant. “Let me in, Draco, I need to ask you a question.”
There was a lump in his throat, but he managed to speak. “Fine, fine. Show her in.”
Candice nodded and opened the door wider, allowing Pansy to sweep into the room, fur flying. She gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek and then perched dramatically on the edge of his desk.
She smiled at him lasciviously, giving him the once over, but not saying a word.
“On with it, Pansy. I’m a busy man. What’s your question?” He hoped he sounded more bothered than anxious.
“Draco, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember,” she said, her tone almost sweet. “In fact, you’re my oldest and dearest mate, outside of Mitchell.”
“Right. And?”
“Well, since Mitchell became um, himself, I don’t really have any old girlfriends.”
Draco had a bad feeling. “Right. Get to the point.”
She jumped up from his desk suddenly, moved forward and grasped his shoulders. “Would you be my maid of honor?”
“What?”
“My maid of honor,” she said, her eyes pleading.
“For fucks sake, why don’t you ask Granger? Do I look like a maid?” (For some reason he always reverted back to her last name when in the presence of Slytherins.)
Pansy mulled over his question for a moment. “Honestly, I considered her. But Mitchell called dibs, they’ve been friends much longer.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “Are you saying?”
She smirked, “Yup, Mitchell’s asking your girlfriend to be his best man.”
He nearly hooted (but not quite, because Malfoy’s never hoot). “Fine, just don’t ask me to wear a bloody dress.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she gushed. “Actually, we’re leaning toward the loincloth.”
Part 7.
A/N: So there you have it, the stage is pretty much set for Vegas. I will probably write one or two more pre-Vegas segments, but we'll get there soon. I did have one question to those of you who have been reading this. Regarding the muggle-themed wedding, I am still undecided on which movie to choose (though we know which way Pansy and Mitchell are leaning). If you have any thoughts on the matter, please share them. By the way, if you are unfamiliar with “The Beastmaster,” I recommend checking out the fan site I've linked to. I don't know if Brits are even aware of this film, so my use of it may be off, but I just couldn't resist.
Also, I'd like to send out a thanks to Chanteur Dombre, for coming up with the Mitchell/Millicent name combo of "Mitch-icent." Thanks!
Author: Thea Witchiepooh
Pairing/Characters: Hermione, Colin Creevey, Mitch-icent, Draco, Pansy
Rating: PG-13 (for some language)
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters. This silly plot is mine.
Summary: The last piece is about to fall in place. (Sequel to Friendly Fire.)
Everything was falling into place.
Soon after Ron had unknowingly given his consent to (as Draco liked to refer to it) "the mad muggle odyssey" Pansy had followed fast. The meme had been right up her alley, as there was nothing Pansy enjoyed more than talking incessantly about herself. In fact, she'd replied with none of the hesitancy that Ron had shown.
Harry and Ginny had been more of a challenge, but eventually they'd been conned as well. Now only one holdout remained: Mitch-icent Bulstrode.
A number of attempts to deceive him by mmail had failed, mainly because he wasn't naive. Usually Hermione would admire healthy skepticism, but at the moment it was rather frustrating. Mitchell had been the mastermind of the meddlesome quintet's privacy-breaching violation. If they didn't get him, they may as well not bother with the others.
She and Draco had decided a more personal approach would be necessary, which is why Hermione found herself sitting on a Saturday afternoon at Moony's--the quaint Diagon Alley cafe that Lupin and Tonks had opened a few years after the war. She was waiting for the arrival of Mitchell and Colin Creevey. In the guise of convincing Mitchell to hire Colin to photograph the wedding, she would get him to sign the magical contract.
Hermione was also hoping to get more specific details on the Vegas plans. Once everyone was bound to the agreement, the next step would be when and how to spring the "road trip from hell" (as Colin liked to refer to it) on their unsuspecting friends. The conventional wisdom was leaning toward creating a Portkey to trigger the guilty parties' "sentence" sometime between their arrival in Las Vegas and the wedding. The most likely opportunity would be the night of the respective stag and hen parties, when their guard would be down, thanks to the wonders of intoxication.
One thing the scheming duo had in their favor was timing. While the exact dates weren't set, Pansy and Mitchell had insisted that the festivities take place over a two-week period in June of the following year (the holiday season was just around the corner, so they had about seven months to prepare). That meant vengeance could be done, but not at the expense of the couple's wedding or honeymoon. Draco and Hermione wanted bloody revenge, but they didn't have a death wish. And interfering directly with the nuptials surely qualified as one.
****
Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet as Colin arrived. He sat down next to her and whispered, “I've just been by the Weasley shop and everything is set." Then he placed the faux contract in front of her.
She glanced at it briefly, noticing the keywords that had been interspersed throughout. She snickered as she read select passages such as, “All photographic equipment to be stored in Winnebago Journey,” and her personal favorite, “Mr. Creevey to be assisted by Franklin D. Hoover," (as in the Dam).
Her perusal of the document ended abruptly as Mitchell burst into the restaurant carrying a large portfolio and loudly throwing it on the table in front of her (just barely giving her time to move the contract out of the way).
“Darling,” Mitchell gushed, “I’m so thrilled to see you, I desperately need your opinion.” With a flourish, he opened up the portfolio.
Hermione looked down at several muggle-style movie images. Or at least, that’s what she thought they were at first. On closer inspection, she realized they were wedding pictures modeled on mostly famous muggle films. Among the counterfeit portraits displayed before her she recognized “Star Wars,” “The Lord of the Rings,” “Casablanca,” “The Matrix,” “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Gone With the Wind,” “The Big Lebowski,” (an odd inclusion, she thought) and astoundingly, “The Beastmaster.”
“Oh my god!” yelled Hermione, forgetting for a moment she was in the presence of pagans. “The fucking Beastmaster?”
“Is that a good one?” Mitchell asked innocently. Colin, who like Hermione had once seen the fromage-encrusted men in loincloths “classic” started to laugh.
While Hermione was all for seeing her friends humiliated, (strictly for revenge purposes), this was going too far. Not only since these ridiculous muggle rip-off motifs wouldn’t be by her hand (and where’s the fun in that?) but also because it appeared that everyone at the wedding had to take part. A quick perusal of the photos showed the themes extended well beyond the bridal parties. She looked at Mitchell with a sober expression. “You can’t seriously be considering any of these.”
“Why not?” he asked.
Temporarily distracted from her mission of snagging the witchard into the contract, she answered, “Because it’s your wedding day! Do you really want to look back on it and see you were dressed as,” she picked up the photo from the bowling friendly “Big Lebowski” and shook it in front of him, “The Dude?”
Mitchell shrugged off her protest. “Oh, don’t be such a pill, Granger. Pansy and I have the rest of our lives to be proper or dignified. I want to celebrate our union, not act like it’s a tea social. It’ll be fanbloodytastic!”
“Well it will certainly make my job more enjoyable,” interjected Colin, who thankfully reminded Hermione of why they were there in the first place.
“Right we’ll get to that in a minute, first I need help narrowing down our choices. I’ve never seen any of these.” He sorted through the shots. When Colin and Hermione failed to provide quick input, he glared at them impatiently. “Out with it! Do I go for-and he read from the captions, “swashbuckling space hero” (Han Solo) or would I make a better, “tantalizing tamer” (the titular character Dar from “The Beastmaster.”)
Hermione groaned. There was no way she would ever put on one of the Sheena-like barely-there costumes that went along with the sword-and-sorcery fantasy film. Of those presented in the portfolio, she figured “The Lord of the Rings” provided the least offensive options.
She grabbed it from the pile. “I vote for ‘ethereal elvish beauty,’ (an Arwen ensemble) for Pansy and ‘ruggedly regal’ (Aragorn) for you,” she suggested.
“Hmm.” Mitchell considered. “I was sort of leaning toward beastie boy,” he said evilly.
“Well you’d certainly have memorable photographs,” noted Colin, still trying to steer him back to the contract. (Hermione was never a huge fan of the older Creevey brother, but she had to admire his tenacity.)
“Alright, I take the hint,” Mitchell whined. “Let me see the contract.”
Hermione perked up and handed it over. He read through it slowly (too slowly, causing Hermione to sweat nervously and bite her ever-maligned lip).
“What the fuck is a Winnebago Journey? Sounds expensive,” he looked at Colin. “Unlike some people’s boyfriends,” he jerked his head toward Hermione, “I’m not made of Galleons.”
Colin was obviously prepared for this question and the concerns about cost. “You want Pansy to be happy, right? You want it to be brilliant?”
“Of course.”
“Well then trust me, I’ll need the Winnebago. It’s a state of the art storage facility. Without it my equipment runs a huge risk of damage. And if that happens, you’re fucked. Not only would you be liable, but your lovely betrothed would be gutted and quite likely rip your well-paid-for balls off.”
Mitchell winced. “Well, when you put it that way, where do I sign?”
Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was nearly dancing with excitement in her seat. Mitchell signed and handed the parchment over to Colin. They all stood up.
The co-conspirator shook Mitchell’s hand, and then surreptitiously winked Hermione's way as he folded the contract and placed it inside his robes. “Well then, I’ve got to get back on set, we’re shooting a new episode. Great to see you both.” He crinkled his brow as if concentrating on something and then added, “I’d go with ‘The Beastmaster,' you can’t pass up a chance to see the witches in skimpy animal skin!”
“Creevey!” Hermione narrowed her eyes and would have fully chastised the little turd, but he breezed out the door before she had a chance.
She sat back down, slowly becoming resigned to the idea that even with the plot now well on its way to success, the price for payback would be high.
Mitchell was examining her closely, like a biologist studying bacteria in a petri dish. “So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I have an important question to ask you.”
Hermione stiffened. This couldn’t be good.
****
While Mitchell Bulstrode's fate was being sealed and Hermione was wondering if it was worth the bother, Draco was sitting in his floor-to-ceiling window-lined office, composing a letter to Severus Snape.
His former potions professor had dropped off the face of Wizarding society shortly after being exonerated for the death of Albus Dumbledore. (Snape had been able to prove he’d been acting under the orders of the old Hogwarts Headmaster, who had known of the Unbreakable Vow and was in fact mortally wounded before the killing curse was ever cast, on that fateful night long ago.)
Since his disappearance, he and Draco had stayed in sporadic contact, though the younger wizard had no knowledge of where Snape lived or what he was doing. It was widely rumored that he’d moved to Tibet, seeking solace in the quiet of a Buddhist monastery. For though he had been legally cleared of all culpability, he still felt responsible.
A knock on the door disturbed Draco from his task. “Yes?” he said, clearly put off.
His assistant Candice popped her head in. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Malfoy, but a Ms. Parkinson is here.”
He grimaced. What could Pansy want? He hoped there were no cracks in the devilish armor he’d constructed with Hermione. “What does she want?”
Draco heard the witch’s impatient voice from behind his assistant. “Let me in, Draco, I need to ask you a question.”
There was a lump in his throat, but he managed to speak. “Fine, fine. Show her in.”
Candice nodded and opened the door wider, allowing Pansy to sweep into the room, fur flying. She gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek and then perched dramatically on the edge of his desk.
She smiled at him lasciviously, giving him the once over, but not saying a word.
“On with it, Pansy. I’m a busy man. What’s your question?” He hoped he sounded more bothered than anxious.
“Draco, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember,” she said, her tone almost sweet. “In fact, you’re my oldest and dearest mate, outside of Mitchell.”
“Right. And?”
“Well, since Mitchell became um, himself, I don’t really have any old girlfriends.”
Draco had a bad feeling. “Right. Get to the point.”
She jumped up from his desk suddenly, moved forward and grasped his shoulders. “Would you be my maid of honor?”
“What?”
“My maid of honor,” she said, her eyes pleading.
“For fucks sake, why don’t you ask Granger? Do I look like a maid?” (For some reason he always reverted back to her last name when in the presence of Slytherins.)
Pansy mulled over his question for a moment. “Honestly, I considered her. But Mitchell called dibs, they’ve been friends much longer.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “Are you saying?”
She smirked, “Yup, Mitchell’s asking your girlfriend to be his best man.”
He nearly hooted (but not quite, because Malfoy’s never hoot). “Fine, just don’t ask me to wear a bloody dress.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she gushed. “Actually, we’re leaning toward the loincloth.”
Part 7.
A/N: So there you have it, the stage is pretty much set for Vegas. I will probably write one or two more pre-Vegas segments, but we'll get there soon. I did have one question to those of you who have been reading this. Regarding the muggle-themed wedding, I am still undecided on which movie to choose (though we know which way Pansy and Mitchell are leaning). If you have any thoughts on the matter, please share them. By the way, if you are unfamiliar with “The Beastmaster,” I recommend checking out the fan site I've linked to. I don't know if Brits are even aware of this film, so my use of it may be off, but I just couldn't resist.
Also, I'd like to send out a thanks to Chanteur Dombre, for coming up with the Mitchell/Millicent name combo of "Mitch-icent." Thanks!