Cruel and Unusual Punishment

A/N- I’m so happy people are still reading after all this time! Yay!! I heart you readers so very much! I think I might have gotten my muse back for this story. I added some things to chapter 12 and added some of chapter 12 to chapter 13, which is now pretty much done. So yeah… it’s getting there :) And baby is good, she laughs now! I think it’s finally sunk in that she’s mine and I get to keep her, and I’m not as afraid of breaking her anymore. It took awhile to get to this point lol, but it feels good! But anywhoo, on with the story!

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“You sure you don’t want to go?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure you’re—”

“Yes! I don’t want to go anywhere near the astronomy tower at any point tonight or any night that Draco Mother Mounting Malfoy is in the vicinity!” Hermione snapped, unable to hold her temper in check any longer. It was 8:49 on Thursday night. Ginny had been pestering her since approximately 8:07. Enough was enough already!

“Sorry, ‘Mione, I just thought… you know… since he’s doing this to have sex with you…” Ginny trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

“He’s not. He’s doing this for attention and because he thinks he’s bothering me by continuing… which he isn’t. He’s not actually going to go through with it,” Hermione said to her friend, trying not to sound too bitter about it.

Ginny looked confused. The poor girl actually believed Malfoy wanted to sleep with the frumpy bookworm.

“What do you mean he’s not going to finish?” Ginny asked incredulously. Hermione put down her book and peered around the Gryffindor common room to make sure no one was eavesdropping. There were a few younger students by the fireplace, but none within earshot. She leaned in towards Ginny, who was sitting across from her at the table they were occupying, just to be safe, and told her about the conversation she had overheard between Malfoy and his pre-pubescent, wannabe adopted daughter… who was also a whore.

“I don’t get it,” Ginny said after hearing Hermione’s story. “He’s only doing this so you know that he could’ve won, but why does he even care? He wants to prove that he can get with you if he finishes the poems, and you’re forced to sleep with him? That’s hardly an accomplishment… It’s more like he wants revenge, but what did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” Hermione wailed. It was nice to have at least one friend who understood what she was going through. “Well I sort of tried to kill him the other night, but he deserved that!”

“What!? Do tell!”

Hermione contemplated telling Ginny who else she had made out with the night of the Ravenclaw party. It felt good to talk to someone, and Ginny seemed to understand Hermione’s woes. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get it all out in the open.

“So I was slightly intoxicated at the party,” she started. Ginny raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ok, more like completely obliterated,” she conceded. “Malfoy dragged me back to our dorm and we were sitting on the couch and… well… he sort of kissed me… like a real kiss. And then I kind of… might have… asked him… to ask me… to sleep with him.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide with the new information. “Oh. My. God. You had sex with him already!?”

“No!” Hermione shot back. “He said no!”

“What? That doesn’t make sense!”

“I know!” Finally, someone was getting it! A wave of relief washed over her. This talking thing was kind of nice, she understood why most girls couldn’t get enough of it.

“So then, the very next day he goes and reads another poem! So I politely asked him why he was doing this to me, and he said that I was sending him mixed signals!” she huffed.

“Like what kind of signals?”

“Oh, nothing of real significance… I just don’t understand, though. I mean… he’s working so hard for this, and he used to bother me for sex on a regular basis, and now I find out it’s for no other reason than to spite me? It’s not like he could make me any more of a loser than I already am!” she said, rubbing her eyes, which she was surprised to find had gone slightly moist. Ginny reached a hand across the table and rested it on her friend’s shoulder.

“Hermione, honestly, Malfoy is just a prat. In a few years he will be fat and bald, and you will be beautiful and successful. None of this will even matter.”

“You would say that, you’re beautiful now, Gin. Boys like you! They also don’t spend all their time plotting to publicly humiliate you!”

“You aren’t as ugly as you think you are,” Ginny replied.

“Gee… thanks,” Hermione shot back sarcastically.

“No, I’m serious! You’ve always hid behind being smart, but I think there is more to you, and boys are starting to see it! Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten a lot of male attention from snogging Luna,” the redhead challenged.

“That’s because I snogged a girl!”

“Yes, but it’s also because it showed you have a fun side! Boys need to know that you are interested in more than just books. They need to think they have a chance, or they won’t bother to take one.”

“So guys think I could be interested in them because I kissed a girl?” she worked out slowly.

“Yup.”

Wow, men weren’t confusing at all.

“Ok, so what should I do about Malfoy? Should I just ignore him, or tell a teacher, or slip him an impotence potion?” Hermione asked slyly, hoping Ginny would encourage the latter.

“Hmm…” Ginny pondered. “I think you should ignore him, but… I heard Dean and McLaggen both asked you to be their date to Hogsmead this weekend?”

“Yes, but I didn’t say I’d go with them. I mean, it’s not necessary to have a date and I think I’d get so much more done if I went alone and—”

“Ok, ok I get it!” Ginny interrupted, staring at her friend with bulging eyes. How was it even possible that Hermione could put thought into every little thing she did? Where did she find the time!? “I was thinking, perhaps you should agree to go with one of them.”

Hermione didn’t say anything for a moment, before she asked, “Why?”

“Well, maybe Malfoy is doing this to humiliate you, and maybe he isn’t. Either way, right now he’s probably finishing the Hufflepuff poems, which means that you’ll have to go on a date with him. If you already have a date to Hogsmead, at least he won’t be able to ruin it for you. And who knows, you might even make him jealous,” Ginny shrugged.

“Pshh…” Hermione hissed in disbelief. “He’s going with Astoria Greengrass, I could have triple D’s and sport a cat-suit, and he wouldn’t look twice.”

Ginny just laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “You can be really delusional sometimes. Even Dumbledore would look twice at you in a cat-suit, and he’s gay!”

Hermione almost argued, but the words got stuck in her throat. Malfoy had once enlightened her on the headmaster’s sexual orientation… at a party where she had kissed Luna… on a night that she had also kissed a certain Slytherin…

“Ok, but should I go with Dean or Cormac?” she asked, her face set determinedly.

Ginny squealed in delight, grabbed Hermione’s hand, and pulled her towards the girls’ dorms. “I’ve got the perfect outfit for you!”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she dug her heels into the floor, but it was no use. Ginny may be built like a twig, but when she wanted something, she was like a crazed whomping willow on steroids. If Hermione hadn’t started picking up her feet on the staircase, Ginny would have literally dragged her along, with her head bouncing against every step like a rag doll.

-***-

It was official. Draco Malfoy had groupies. Giggling ones, like really giggly. They were each wearing a shirt with his face on it that said ‘Be My Dracentine!’ and apparently this was the funniest thing since the professor Flitwick Barbie (it was life-size).

“Come on, Dracentine!” one of them yelled. She looked like she had more to say, but she suddenly burst into fits of laughter, falling on her other friends, who all joined her in jumping up and down. Draco would have thought they were drunk, if it wasn’t for the fact that they were barely 12 years old.

One of them seemed to be getting a hold of herself. She stepped forward, clutching her side and looking at him like she wanted to bite a chunk out of his backside. Draco didn’t like this one. She was chubby, and her shirt was stretched tight over her belly, making Draco’s face look oddly distorted. His Grecian good looks shouldn’t have to suffer because some girl couldn’t control herself around the pastries. He wasn’t a fan of being displayed as a Chinese special-needs child, and was just about to tell her so when she finally composed herself enough to speak.

“Read your last poem!” she shouted.

“Yeah, do it!” one of her counterparts added, before covering her mouth with her hand like she’d said a naughty word.

“Oh. Em. Gee! ‘Do it’!” the fat one exclaimed, falling on the group as they all broke out in a hysterical fit of laughter. Either that, or they were having seizures simultaneously. It was hard to tell.

Draco’s eyes searched the room, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. He had hoped she would show up to at least hear one of his poems. Writing Valentines for almost one-fourth of their year in two days was no easy feat, and Granger wasn’t even there to appreciate it!

There was nothing to be done. He had to finish before the professors arrived, and with the amount of noise the giggling girls were making alone, he didn’t have much longer. Sighing, he raised his arms in the air to call for attention.

“Last, but definitely not least, a poem for Susan Bones,” he said, spotting her red hair amongst the crowd and shooting her a slight wave.

You may have flaming red hair,
Not to be confused with a Weasley.
Though I’ve never tried myself,
I’ve been assured you aren’t easy.

Many men have searched and failed,
To find out what’s under your clothes.
A bush, a hedge, an overgrown woods,
Or landing strip, like so many hoes?

One could slip you a compliance potion,
So for that, you should keep watch.
When desperation starts running high,
To unearth your fire crotch.

Some wizards may even start to try,
Surveillance spells and videotapes.
To solve the mystery of our time,
And see if the carpet matches the drapes!

Everyone cheered. Susan looked slightly embarrassed, but she was laughing along with the rest of her classmates. His work there was finished, so he started to make his way through the crowd and back to his common room, receiving many pats on the back along the way. It was time to find Granger and tell her the good news about their date to Hogsmead.


Hermione was lounging on the sofa with a book when he arrived. She didn’t acknowledge him, even when he sat down right next to her.

“I finished the poems for Hufflepuff,” he gloated.

“Mmm hmm…” she hummed her reply. Her nonchalant attitude caused a spike in Draco’s blood pressure.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Mmm hmm…”

Draco couldn’t take it. He snatched her book out of her hands, finally getting her to look up at him. She wasn’t sneering or scowling, or even showing any kind of emotion towards him at all. It was completely infuriating.

“Don’t you just know everything today!” he snapped. “So I don’t have to remind you that finishing Hufflepuff means that we have a date, now do I?”

“Nope,” was her simple, one-word response. The vein in Draco’s temple started to swell.

“Then we’ll be leaving for Hogsmead at 10 when the carriages set off, I don’t want to walk.”

“Nope,” she repeated, barely suppressing a smirk. His eyes narrowed.

“If we miss the carriages, I’ll make you carry me.”

She actually snorted in laughter at his comment. “We won’t be leaving together, so it doesn’t matter if we miss anything!” she replied curtly.

“I get to chose what we do on our dates, and I say that we are going to Hogsmead!” he snapped back, his voice ringing with finality. He knew he shouldn’t care so much, but his emotions were getting the better of him lately. He blamed her.

“Oh no, I am so sorry!” she cried, not sounding sorry at all. “I had no idea you’d want to go Hogsmead with me!” She slapped her cheek with her palm, shaking her head in sarcastic disbelief. “I’m afraid I already have a date.” She patted his shoulder, took her book back and headed to bed. Feeling quite satisfied for ruining his evil plan, she practically skipped up the stairs.

“Who are you going with?” he asked.

“None of your business!” she replied in a singsong voice.

“It is my business if you’re making him up.” That got her attention. She turned with her hand on her doorknob, a devilish half-smirk plastered to her face.

“Dean Thomas, a perfect gentleman.” She opened her door and slammed it shut behind her, leaving Draco alone in their common room, silently fuming.

Perfect gentleman!? I’ll show her who’s the perfect gentleman…


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