A Mandatory Alliance
By: Provocative Envy
OOO
CHAPTER SIX
To: A Hopeless, Egocentric Nazi Who Will Be Murdered In His Sleep If He Doesn’t Learn to Quit Insulting The Russo-American Witch Who Will Vow To Kill Him Soon And Doesn’t Renege On Her Promises
You really are the progeny of Satan. Or Cher. Or a chiropractor. (I could get really mean and start spouting American politics with the hope of seriously insulting you, if you’re a Michaela, I mean Michael, Moore fan, but I really don’t think you’re a terrorist, or have a collection of home-made nuclear weapons, or wear a turban to church.)
Anyways, I think that whatever you’re going to do to that poor girl is absolutely horrid. She sounds lovely, mainly because it’s obvious she harbors a great aversion for you, and I only wish I’d gotten her for a…pen pal. I really am loathe to call you a pen pal. You don’t write anything nice, and you’re certainly not a pal. More like a blood-sucking, sardonically witty cynic with exceedingly insensitive and callous tendencies. Oooh, I really do hate you. I don’t even know you and I hate you. I don’t even know if you’re a bloody first year or not. (If you are, please try a bit harder in the future to be nicer to the big, angry, violent, and powerful seventh year who lives in Russia, where murder might be legal. I say ‘might‘ because I‘ve only been arrested once and I have no idea what for, and since those men killed my father with no consequences, murder might very well be legal. I just don‘t know.)
Whatever. You’re not worth talking to anymore. I poured out my very soul and you just threw it back at me. Threw it back at me. Why? I don’t understand how I could open up to you like that, so…openly, and you just…act like nothing happened! I mean, if you had shown just an ounce of sympathy to my plight, maybe I would be congratulating you on your “triumph” over that girl. Who you hate. I say, what’s her name? I know these things are supposed to confidential, but I’m curious. If you tell me, I can put a name to the face (which, if you’d be so kind, could you describe for me?) of my new idol.
Do tell her that she has a fan club at my school. A few of my chums and myself are even going make matching pins to go on our uniforms!
From: Oh, Does It Even Matter?
P.S. I hate you.
OOO
Aristotle? Does anyone actually care? Draco Malfoy asked himself, his eyes glazing over as he reread the same sentence for the umpteenth time. Granger needs to be shot. Or sat on by Crabbe and Goyle. And Pansy, he chortled to himself, slamming the book shut and tossing it over his shoulder. Much to his amusement, he heard it hit someone.
“Malfoy! What the hell?” It was Granger. Without Crabbe and Goyle.
“Granger? Where’s your escort?” At Draco’s words, Hermione smirked.
“Oh, well, we were just having the most delightful study session, but they got hungry, so I gave them leave to visit the kitchens,” she replied easily, sitting down across from him and tossing back her blonde hair.
“Study session? With Crabbe and Goyle?” he asked in disbelief.
“Oh, yes. Ever since you’ve left them with me we’ve all just become the best of friends,” Hermione answered.
“Yeah, well, you’re other ‘bestest friends’ tried to rape you, so we can’t start judging yet, now can we?” Draco shot back testily, angry that she had managed to win over Crabbe and Goyle.
“Ah ha! So you admit it wasn’t consensual!” she said loudly, jabbing a finger in the air.
“Well, of course. But only to you.”
“I certainly feel special now,” she returned wryly, mock-pouting and crossing her arms over her chest.
“You should; I’ve never in my life seen someone look quite as bad as a blonde,” Draco said, grinning at her irritated expression.
“That reminds me, I have another idea for our…project.”
“Oh? Do tell me, I have numerous plans for you.” Quirking an eyebrow at him, Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Whatever, Malfoy. I was going to suggest that we get you to start treating women better, since you’re a sexist prick who thinks he owns everyone.” Draco glared at her, snorting at her observation.
“Indeed. How do you expect to do this? Lock me in a closet with Pansy? Or, God forbid, you?” he inquired mildly.
“Well…I believe in progression, and…I don’t think that if we were to simply tell you to be nice to girls you’d do it. I think you’d have to learn to be nice to your inferiors before you can be nice to your equals.” Hermione paused, biting her lip in thought. “Yes, so my plan was to make you work with the house-elves for a day.”
“What? Work? Are you insane?” Draco burst out, enraged.
“Don‘t belittle my brilliance just because you‘re not as intelligent as me,” she responded petulantly.
“Not as intelligent as…! I’ll get to that later. The point is: Malfoys don’t work.”
“It’s just for a day,” she needled him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Never.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Good! Then I’ll meet you in front of the Great Hall at six tomorrow morning!” Hermione stood up, a false smile on her face.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off easy, Granger. Oh, no. You see…you’ll be joining me in this manual labor…thing.”
“You know, Malfoy, I’m actually starting to think you really do want to be a better person,” Hermione commented, her eyes pensive.
“No, I just don’t want to end up in the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo’s, which is where I’ll be visiting my father soon. Mother’s already force-feeding him his medication, you know.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Have a good evening, Granger; tomorrow will be hell in a hand basket, that much I can assure you.”
OOO
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