CHAPTER 9
Hermione wasn’t quite sure how she had ended up back in Hogsmeade that same day, but she felt that it had much to do with the enthusiastic redhead at her side.
“Oh my gosh, Hermione,” squealed Ginny as they quickly walked down the path towards the more popular boutiques. “I can’t believe the Halloween Ball is already here! I mean, this is the first opportunity I’ve been waiting for this year!”
“Exactly what sort of opportunity do you mean?” panted Hermione as they swiftly turned a corner and began striding down a new path.
“Why, the opportunity to dress up, be gorgeous, and flirt outrageously, of course!”
Dress up? Hermione thought nervously. Oh no, no, no. There's no way in hell she's going to get me to go shopping for a dress NOW.
“Ginny,” she complained. “I’m not in the mood right now! And really, dresses and gowns are just not my thing.”
Ginny rolled her eyes before suddenly grabbing Hermione’s hand and nearly hurtling into the most expensive boutique in Hogsmeade.
Hermione could hear her friend gasp softly as gowns and dresses of all sorts came into view, but she herself wasn’t as thrilled. She snorted lightly as Ginny turned to her and said, “Herms, darling, as much as I love you, you really need to get going with the feminine stuff.”
Hermione scoffed, “I’m a 5’8’’ package of woman, Gin, how much more feminine can you get?
“Loads.”
“Oh for –”
“Not another word,” snapped Ginny as they approached the main counter. “I’m here for work purposes, so you just keep that mouth of yours shut.”
Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny earnestly asked the lady at the counter, “Excuse me, but we’d like some help in choosing suitable costumes for the upcoming Halloween Ball at Hogwarts. Do you mind assisting us?”
The elegant-looking lady, (her name tag read Marsha Hockput), smiled as she briskly led them to a section a bit behind them. “My, my, you two are quite the beauties. I’m sure I’ll have no trouble in helping you two to look your best. Now, if you could just tell me what kind of costume you’d prefer…”
“Ooooh, I’m definitely going as a cat-woman!” crowed Ginny as she ran her hands across a number of fur suits. “There seems to be a lack of popularity regarding those creatures these days.”
Marsha quickly scanned the aisle before reaching out and grabbing a cat outfit from the rack. Ginny plucked it out of her hands and dashed into the changing rooms. When she emerged, Hermione lightly applauded.
“Wow, Gin, you are one good-looking cat!”
“Yes, those shades of brown and gold complement your red hair very nicely,” Marsha tacked on as Ginny blew herself kisses in the mirror. “And your shapely arms are well exposed by the erratically cut designs, not to mention your muscled legs looking excellent in the tight-fitting leg wear. You are, I presume, an athlete, am I right?”
Ginny nodded gleefully. “Yes! I play Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”
“Well, that would explain it. Now, sweetheart, if you can just change back to your original clothes, I’ll be happy to extract some accessories for you after I finish up here with your friend. Now dear,” said Marsha as she turned towards Hermione. “Go ahead and tell me what you want to be.”
“Erm,” muttered Hermione, a little uncertain. “I was thinking along the lines of mermaid, perhaps?”
Marsha nodded and promptly directed Hermione over to another rack that was filled with colorful garments. “Excellent choice. Here, take this one and try it on.”
Hermione reluctantly took the bundle from Marsha’s arms and entered the cramped dressing room. She faced her back to the mirror as she tugged on the outfit, before turning around and examining her reflection.
She had to admit, she looked good. Wow…
The top was like a string bikini top, and the front consisted of cream-colored shells that contrasted softly with her tanned skin. The skirt hung low on her waist, and was a beatific mix of sea-green and turquoise that was studded with innumerable pearls. The skirt also had a ruffle extending from the waist all the way down, and while the front of the skirt had a long V-like opening where another shimmering fabric made up a smaller skirt that was about seven inches above her knee, the back narrowed down into a longer strip that loosely trailed behind her. As the small gemstones and pearls twinkled in the mirror, someone pounded on the door.
“Come on, Hermione!” yelled Ginny’s voice. “Don’t keep us waiting!”
Slowly, Hermione opened the door and was rewarded with an enormous eye-widening from Marsha, and a low whistle, courtesy of Ginny. Hermione flushed slightly as the two people in front of her stared, due to loss of words to say.
Finally, Ginny shook her head in near disbelief. “Merlin’s beard, ‘Mione. You, without a doubt, are the sexiest mermaid to ever grace this world with her presence.”
“Aw, Ginny, it’s not that special.”
“Actually, my dear,” Marsha cut in, “It is. You are, quite honestly, a thing of ravishing beauty in that ensemble, and let me tell you, that is one outfit many have tried, but none have managed to dazzle with. I really do pity the others attending this ball of yours, because both of you are going to be the centers of attraction that night.”
All three of them giggled slightly before making sure they’d gotten everything they needed and heading over to the cashier. Hermione worried just a tad bit about the cost of all her purchases, but one warning look from Ginny managed to shut her up. It was only just as they were entering Hogwarts that night did Hermione remember that McGonagall had owled her that the Heads’ outfits would have to be related to one theme.
Oh well, Hermione thought with a shrug. I guess Draco will have to be able to dress up like a merman…he can pull off anything.
Of course, Hermione refused to acknowledge the marginally troublesome issue of a date. She figured that she’d cross that hurdle when she came to it.
After all, to a girl whose life has been mainly absorbed by books, world-famous best friends, and innumerable death-defying incidents, a day simply filled with questions and prospects of costumes, balls, and boys would just be too much of a burden.
* * *
Three goddamn weeks to go, Draco thought miserably as he shoved his completed Potions homework into his bag and flopped onto his now favorite loveseat. Who the hell can I take to the damn thing?
Draco began listing potential girls in his head, but each time he considered one for over three seconds, he’d find some sort of flaw.
Gina Moss? No, the girl’s about as exciting as her surname. Maybe she could go with Goyle…Romilda Vane? Ick. She’s got more fluff in her head than mum’s new mattresses. Chrissy Pillick? Not bad, but she’s well known as the girl who keeps a logbook about every minute she spends with a bloke…
He sighed. Was there no girl alive with brains, looks, and a good reputation? The moment he thought this, the image of Hermione’s face formed in his mind and stayed there for a while until he banished it. Hermione had no business lurking around in his head, and he would do well to remember that. After all, he still had to attend to the pending matter of his date for the ball.
It was almost like he’d held up a megaphone and yelled, “I need a date!”, because at that moment, the world’s most annoying female specimen burst through the portrait door and trilled, “Drakey, I’m here! I just heard the news, and all I’ve got to say is that you can pick either vampires or fairies, whichever one sounds better to you.”
Draco sat up with a look of disgust threatening to spread across his face. “What the bloody hell are you talking about, Pansy? News?”
Pansy gave what she thought was an alluring laugh. Draco fought the urge to retch. “You silly, silly boy,” she giggled as she sat down next to him and pushed out her chest a little bit more. “What on earth do you think I’d be talking about other than the Halloween Ball?! It’s only the most exciting piece of news throughout this castle right now.”
“So what do you need me for?” Draco snapped as he discreetly edged away from her.
“Don’t be so obtuse, Drakey-poo. You know you’ve been fairly obnoxious to me so far this year, and I’ve been taking it rather well. Much better,” she sniffed loftily, “Than some of the other nitwits I’ve seen wandering around in the hallways with red eyes. But I have something those idiot girls don’t, you see, and that thing is you, Draco.”
Pansy nearly draped herself over Draco and began to let her hands roam downwards until they were dangerously close to an essential part of his anatomy. Draco refused to let his libido have the upper hand, and grabbed Pansy by her upper arms and shoved her away onto the other side of the loveseat.
Pansy pouted, looking uncannily like Draco’s great-aunt Esther who had a ridiculous underbite and would always grab him by his ear and make him knit with her. In fact, it was thanks to her that he even knew how to handle needles, but of course, if anyone ever found out, he’d have to kill the person and/or himself. The idea wasn’t tempting, so he drew himself back from the idea of suicide and homicide and instead faced Pansy. The situation wasn’t much different.
He took a deep, supposedly calming breath. “Listen, Pansy. I told you before: I do not want to be with you anymore. It’s over and it’s been over for a long time. I don’t care what you threaten to do, because whatever you do will only be thrown back at you a hundred times worse. I’ve had enough of your stupid complaints, and your prejudices, and your repulsive habit of sleeping around with anything that walks on two feet and has a dick!”
Pansy stood there, her eyes beginning to water, and Draco recognized the start of what was sure to be an extraordinary display of waterworks. Not five seconds later, the drops began to plummet.
“I gave you all I had, Drakey!” she bawled. “I always made sure that you would never have to worry about me, and that you were always satisfied. I love you, Drakey, I really do! You can’t do this to me now, after all these years!”
Draco got up from the seat and stood with his feet apart and his arms crossed. This was his refusal stance, and for all that Pansy would wail, he would not budge, by God, no he would not.
“Pansy, don’t make yourself look even more foolish by doing this.” he hissed. “I never gave enough of a damn about you to want to worry about you, and the only satisfaction you ever gave me was the fact that if I ever castrated myself, people would be able to take one look at you and understand why I would do such a thing. You’re disgusting, Pansy. You’re a whore and a slut. You say you love me? Well, I’ve got news for you: you don’t know the meaning of love. Love means that when I cry, you’ll stand by and cry for me too. Love means that when I’m angry, you’ll come to me and ask me what’s wrong and try to make it better. Love means that if I ever want to be rid of the world, the only thing holding me back will be the image of your face. That is love!”
Pansy gaped at him, speechless, and Draco drilled on mercilessly. “You know, Pansy, the first time I ever cried in front of you, last year, you remember what you did? You told me to stop sniveling because I was ruining your concentration as you put on ten pounds of makeup. And then, that one time when I was ranting and raving about how I hated having to torture people and murder them, what did you do? You said absolutely nothing, and went on prattling about Celestina Warbeck’s newest affair scandal.”
Pansy opened her mouth to say something, but Draco rapidly cut across with fire in his eyes. “But of course, that wasn’t the worst part. Oh no, it was not. Let us revisit last year again, the day father tried to recruit me again for his Death Eater plans. Do you recall the fact that I visited you and Blaise in the common room, and told you about what I being asked to do, and how scared and vulnerable I felt? I remember mentioning that it would be so much better if I just died, and wouldn’t have to face this mess ahead of me. Blaise promptly tried to talk me out of them, the suicidal thoughts. He made me think of all the things I’d leave behind in peril if I were to kill myself, and I believe it’s thanks to him that I’m still standing here today. But, Pansy, what was your reaction? Ah, yes, I remember. You looked up with a shocked expression and cried, ‘Oh, Drakey-poo, you can’t kill yourself! If you die, who will I shag when there’s no one else around?”
Draco had imitated Pansy’s high-pitched, nasal voice to perfection, and watched with pleasure as she desperately tried to find the right words to say.
“I – I, I’m sorry, Draco,” she stammered as he glared down at her with full force. “R–really, I am. I just n-never thought of it that way. I mean, I never r-really thought you’d a-actually feel these things…”
Draco could hear the ice in his own voice as he spoke. “You never thought of it that way, Pansy. That’s where the problem lies. You are self-centered, selfish, and an egotistical bitch. Why would you think I wouldn’t feel those things, hm? I am human, you know, something which is much more than I can say for you.”
He could practically see the icicles being driven into her as the words pierced the air. He was feeling no remorse for any pain he was causing her right now. This was all very liberating.
Pansy could tell that Draco was angry, but she took a step closer to him and fixed her face with a simpering look. “Drakey, why are you being so mean to me? Tell me what’s really wrong, and I’ll see if I can fix it with some natural gifts I have.”
“DON’T CALL ME DRAKEY!” he exploded as she wore away his last nerve. “THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD ENOUGH! GET OUT OF HERE, PARKINSON! GET OUT OF THIS ROOM, GET OUT OF THIS AREA, AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE! I HATE YOU, AND NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU DARKEN MY DOORSTEP AGAIN! JUST GET OUT!”
This time, Pansy dropped all pretenses and let the tears fall, causing her face to have rivulets of black mascara running down it as she stumbled out of the common room. Draco turned his back to the portrait door and put his fists to his forehead, when suddenly, a soft voice said, “You shouldn’t have said it like that.”
He whipped around and saw Hermione standing in front of him with two shopping bags in her hands. She put the bags aside, took off her scarf and coat, and then sat down in an armchair. He glowered at her before stomping over and taking the seat opposite of her.
Hermione called out, “Dobby?”
Instantly, a smallish elf materialized in front of them and bowed deeply. “Miss Hermione Granger and Mister Malfoy,” he squeaked fervently. “What would you like for me to do?”
Hermione smiled at the overly-willing elf. “I think we could use two butterbeers, Dobby. If you don’t mind of course.”
“Not to worry, Miss!” Dobby squeaked hastily before snapping his fingers and causing two butterbeers to appear on the small coffee table.
“Thanks, Dobby.”
Dobby bowed again, nearly banging his head into his knees. “My pleasure, Miss,” And then with a small crack, he vanished.
Hermione handed a mug to Draco, who took it reluctantly, before taking a sip out of her own. “Now, Draco,” she said firmly. “Would you like to tell me more about what just happened?”
Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it. Extendable Ears are quite effective, you know.”
“Then I suppose I needn’t explain myself. If you’ve heard everything, then you’d find it very easy to sympathize with me right now.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant, Draco.” Hermione said sagely as she wrapped her fingers around her warm mug. “But I’m wondering if there’s anything else you’d like to get off your chest.”
“I don’t feel like laying out my life story for you to examine right now, Hermione. I just lost it, ok? That bitch just got on my last nerve, and I exploded, all right?”
She leaned over the table ever so slightly so that he would have to look into her eyes. “Draco, did you see what you did to her? You destroyed her, in an instant. I admit, maybe she’s not exactly a paragon of virtue, but I really think you hurt her…badly.”
Draco imagined his mug was Pansy’s neck and clutched it so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “Ha! Hurt, my arse!” he spat. “All Parkinson needs in her life is her makeup, some galleons, and a loyal boy-toy to keep her going. Well, forgive me for putting my foot down and not letting her have her way with me.”
“And put it down, you must, Draco.” Hermione said calmly. “However, you cannot allow your temper to run away with you in situations like these. Relationships of any kind are fragile things, and for all you know, Pansy could be nursing a deep grudge for you right now.”
“Oh, and I suppose you know this because you’re such an expert on broken relationships?” he asked her scathingly. The moment he said it, he regretted it, but she merely looked at him coolly.
“No,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I merely use my head.”
Draco got to his feet and threw his mug down, spilling nearly half its contents. “Oh, so now you’re calling me an idiot?”
He glared at Hermione scornfully before stalking off to his room and slamming the door.
Deep grudge…yeah, right, as if. Pansy would sooner offer herself to the Giant Squid than break it off with me herself.
It didn’t take Draco much longer after that to realize that this idea was entirely plausible. After all, the Giant Squid had a dick.
* * *
It would appear, the next morning, that Pansy did indeed have every intention of breaking it off with him. Why, she even told him so at breakfast with every pair of eyes at the Slytherin table watching.
“We are through, Draco Malfoy,” she announced the moment he sat down. “I’ve had enough of your constant fury and rudeness, and by golly, I’ve had enough of your constant yelling. So find yourself some new bitch to fuck, ‘cause you sure as hell are not sticking your dick in me anymore!”
And with that, she strode away in a huff, leaving behind a boy who was joyously praising all the gods he could think, much to the amusement of the bystanders.
Later on, Draco met Hermione in the library and was not surprised to see her rifling through various books on Defense Against the Dark Arts. He himself enjoyed reading, but he never took it so far as to make it an obsession, unlike a certain, brown-haired someone. Trying to replicate the way Blaise would lean against a door or a pillar, he posed against a bookshelf and smirked at her. She merely looked up at him, raised an eyebrow, and then turned away to the next shelf.
Surprised by the attitude, Draco tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned around, her eyes still on the book.
“Need something, Draco?”
“Er, no…” he tried to think of something witty to say, but failed miserably. What was happening to all his innate charm and charisma?! “Found a good book?” he asked lamely.
Hermione considered him evenly before holding out a moderately thick book and saying, “Yes, I do believe so.”
Draco glanced at the title: A Medley of Moods: How to Read and Understand Emotions in Even the Most Enigmatic of People. He looked back up at her, smirking, and said sarcastically, “Fascinating.”
“It is,” she said with her eyes steadily latched onto his face. “I find that it is very useful in figuring people out.”
“Am I familiar with these ‘people’?”
Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps. There’s one, you see, he’s really something. So sweet and kind one second, so cruel and harsh the next. I’m in desperate need to find out his true identity, hence my book-searching quest.”
“I’m sure I have no idea who you’re talking about.” said Draco snootily as he pretended to examine his fingernails.
“I see…Well, then, let me know if you see him. He’s kind of hard to miss.”
“Sure, but don’t get your hopes up about this fellow. He sounds pretty mysterious, and besides, no female can ever hope to understand the male mind.”
“How very chauvinistic of you. I’m sure you have your ideas, anyway. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have someplace to be. Alexander has asked me out for a walk by the lake, and I found it very hard to refuse. Good day.”
She took a step forward, before suddenly seeming to remember something and turning back. “Oh, I almost forgot. McGonagall wants us to match for the ball, and seeing as I’ve already bought my costume, I’d advise you to look quickly. You should be a merman or something of the like, but please don’t attempt to go topless. It’s forbidden.”
Draco gave her a frosty, crooked smile. “I’ll be sure to attend to it.”
They both turned their backs on each other and parted without another word, but all Draco could think of was just how much this Armani bloke was bothering him, and exactly how much time in Azkaban it would cost him if he were to make Armani vanish off the face of the earth.
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