Cruel and Unusual Punishment

A/N: Don’t get used to this quick updating! Eventually the snow will stop and I will have to come out of hibernation and have a life. But since you guys seem to be such wonderful reviewers, I decided I would be nice too and give you the end of their date. Enjoy!

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“Now I know the guys shower in the nude after quidditch, and I know that after almost six years of naked showers you have to have noticed umm… things. So, who’s got the biggest erm… equipment on the Slytherin team?” Hermione’s face was on fire, but it was almost worth it to see Draco gawk at her. Besides, she was only asking these questions so she could win the game, she didn’t actually want to know these things, right?

Liar, liar, pimply pants on fire!

“Damn Granger…” Draco growled. She had gotten him again. If he took a drink she would know he wasn’t the most well equipped, because if he was he would just say it. He had seriously underestimated her when he planned this date. He expected her to ask him what his favorite book was, what he wanted to be when he grew up, and if he preferred butterflies or little kitty cats.

Kitty cats, hands down… they’re purrrty...

…And now I must be killed.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?”

Damn, she’s good!

“No, I’m just strategizing is all.” He really wanted to win this. There was no point in wasting a shot on himself when she would know that he wasn’t the biggest wiener at the barbeque either way. It wasn’t like he was small! He had a good penis, damn it! It had served him well, and he was letting it down! He loved his jewels (more than was healthy during the rare dry spell), and he shouldn’t be ashamed! He should stand proud, like his forefathers before him!

“It’s Goyle!” he cried out. “Goyle and his freakishly large elephant trunk that puts the rest of us to shame! But I am a close second, well, I am second and—and I am proud!” he bellowed with his fist punching the air.

“Merlin Malfoy, I wanted an answer not a theatrical performance. And that is nothing to be ashamed of, I’m sure you’ll grow up someday,” she said in a motherly voice, patting him on the shoulder.

“You’re a horrible, horrible woman.”

“That may be, but at the end of the day, you’re the one with the wittle peeper.”

“All right Granger, you asked for it,” he growled sourly, in a hurry turn the subject from his parts, which was definitely a first for him. “How far have you gotten?”

It was a night for surprises, that much was certain. Instead of taking a shot, Hermione’s nimble fingers went to her blouse and slowly worked their way down the buttons. A minute later her shirt was hung neatly over the back of the couch. And there they were. It was as if the ceiling parted for the sun to come through and shine its light solely upon the two luscious mounds before him.

HAAAA-llelujah!

“Holy Hell, you have boobs!” he exclaimed, unable to control himself. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but the alcohol seemed to take that moment to affect her, so instead she found herself laughing hysterically.

On and on it went, laughing, and gasping, and disrobing, until only one shot remained. Hermione was in her bra and knickers, which to Draco’s slight disappointment, were just plain white cotton, but knickers they were. Draco on the other hand, was sporting a stylish decorative pillow.

“Hmm… are you a masturbator, or a masturbator hater?” Draco asked her.

“Malfoy! I—you—I err…” she squeaked. She was out of clothes to take off and she was not going to become a statistic and get naked with him on the first date. She didn’t even have a pillow to smack him with anymore, and she didn’t trust herself to pinch his bare arms. His creamy, sculpted, drool-worthy, self-stimulating…

“Don’t worry Granger, nearly everyone does it when they think about me.”

“I don’t do it, I’ve only tried it… a few… many times.”

“That’s really hot, just so you know.”

She blushed and turned away from him, trying to think of anything but the tickle that just started between her legs.

Failing grades, failing grades, failing grades!

She breathed, composing her drunken, horny self as best she could. “So… what is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for a girl?”

This woman just continued to impress him. She knew that to the untrained eye, the question wouldn’t seem unreasonable, but to Draco Malfoy, who prided himself on his ‘poke-em and cloak-em’ reputation, answering this question was of the utmost humiliation. Some first date, indeed! He was not about to lose for this though, as now he needed that second date to turn things in his favor and reclaim his long lost masculinity. He swallowed his pride for the millionth time, wrapped his balls in a to-go box since they obviously were no longer needed, and confessed his deepest, darkest secret.

“I was kind of, sort of, completely obsessed with Daphne Greengrass for all of fourth year. I used to send her little love notes and chocolates, and I probably asked her out every other day for a month straight before she agreed. Might I remind you that I was only 14 at the time and hadn’t yet grown into this stunning exterior,” he said, sounding accusatory for a moment. When Hermione raised her hands as if to say ‘no judgment,’ he continued.

“Well, I set up candles in the common room, and had the house-elves send up a bottle of sparkling pumpkin juice. I had my new dress robes on and music playing softly… And you know what she did when she saw it? She laughed at me. She said it was too much and that she wasn’t ready for ‘all that,’ but she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

A sudden understanding washed over Hermione at his confession. He was so set on being a ‘Sex God’ because his first love had shot him down, and the cocky veneer was just his way of ensuring he couldn’t get hurt like that again. She found herself sighing and looking at him in a new light, as if he was a little puppy. Puppies were still cute even after they destroyed your home and peed in your new shoes, and maybe it could be the same with Malfoy.

If he weren’t so naked she would have hugged him, though she may not have wanted to so bad if it weren’t for the nakedness. Either way… Merlin he looks good naked…

“No need to fret, Grangie, I’ve outgrown the vagina so it will be physically possible for us to do it when the time comes. Which brings me to my next, and final question. I’m too drunk to reword the virgin one and I know that sooner or later it will come out, so I’ll let it slide. Now, does a part of you secretly want me to succeed in the challenge so you’ll have an excuse to bed me?”

Hermione was about to shout ‘NO’ (and mean it too!), but before the words could escape, her brain caught up, and she was second-guessing herself. She no longer knew the answer to that question. If she said no and grew a pimple, then he would know she wanted to, and worse, she would know she wanted to! Was it worth a pimple just to keep the game going, even if it meant that he would know she lied and actually wanted to sleep with him? Wait, did she want to or was she just over thinking this!? Why was thinking so difficult all of a sudden!? Why was she thinking about thinking!?

Stupid naked Draco and alcohol induced brain!

She picked up the shot glass, brought it to her lips, and set it back down.

“You know I’m just taking this to end the game because I’m tired, no other reason. And if we were playing fairly we wouldn’t even be on this date, because your version of a nice Valentine is talking about Millicent’s caterpillar fur hair!”

“Well have you ever petted a caterpillar?” Malfoy asked calmly.

“No, but—”

“Then how would you know that a caterpillar isn’t soft? As far as you know, I was complementing her.”

“That’s not all you did! What about Blaise!? You basically told the whole class that your best friend was gay!”

“Granger! I am shocked at you!” he gasped, sounding seriously affronted. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t be a rainbow bashing homophobe!”

“I’m not at all but—”

“Well then why is it bad if I suggested that Blaise was gay?” he cut her off again. “The man wears lip-gloss and matches his silk boxers to the tint of it. Maybe I was just helping him out of the closet.”

“Ok, but what about Pansy!? Saying how she just lies there dead in bed is definitely mean!”

“Au contraire, I didn’t say Pansy lies there dead, I said pansies lie there dead. That’s just fact, Granger! You put a pansy on a table in some water and it’s fine, but lay one in a bed and well, it will die! I just thought I would brush up the school with a little fun, flower facts!”

“But—but—” Hermione whined, not yet willing to surrender the victory to Malfoy, the fact that the fire whiskey was surfing her bloodstream with renewed strength not helping the situation. And to think this all started with a simple inquiry on her sexual experience…

Alas! A light bulb!

“You asked the first question, so to be fair I would have to ask a question and you would have to answer it in order for you to win. Hah! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, I got you!” she sung, sticking out her tongue because of course, that was the only way to really make one’s point.

“Fine, ask away my befuddled little booze-hound,” he challenged, leaning back with his hands folded on his pillow and giving her his undivided attention. Her eyes zoned in on his hands, on the pillow, on his….

“Can you put that thingy away I can’t think clearly!”

“What, this?” he asked innocently, reaching for the pillow he was using as a loincloth. Hermione squealed and dove to the floor with her head hidden under her arms, giving Malfoy a glorious view of her rear end. A second later she felt something soft hit her backside, and she shrieked like a little girl.

“MALFOY I SWEAR TO GODERLIN I’M NOT GETTING OFF THIS FLOOR ‘TIL THAT PILLOW IS COVERING YOUR MAN POKER!” she yelled into the threadbare carpet.

“Fine with me,” he shrugged. “This is a side of you I don’t get to see often enough.”

“Eek! Shut your balls—er—eyeballs you pervert!”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

“Malfoy I’m serious this carpet smells funny!”

Laughing, he decided to take pity on her and got up to retrieve the pillow.

“Is it safe yet?” she squeaked a minute later.

“Yes, I, Sir Malfoy have tamed the big scary penis monster. The world is safe again.”

Pouting, she shakily got to her feet and threw herself onto the couch with a soft “humph.”

“Now I believe you had something to ask me and my ‘man poker’?” he said, sniggering and smirking and enjoying himself entirely too much.

“That’s what it is! What else would you have me call it?”

“I don’t know, dick, cock, ding-dong, meat popsicle, trouser snake, purple-helmeted warrior of love—”

“Ok, ok enough already! What the hell? Do you own some kind of dick… tionary?” He caught her eye and saw the twinkle of playfulness residing there before they both bowed their heads and howled with laughter.

“I can’t believe I just said that!” she wailed, half amused, half seriously shocked with her dirty wordplay, and half too drunk to realize there couldn’t be three halves.

Malfoy laughed louder. She punched him and then joined in.

“Back to business! Why are you…” She pointed at him with her finger wagging incase he didn’t know who she was talking to, there being so many other naked men in the room and all. “…In hate, with Harry Potter?”

He had come this far. His previous suffering would be in vain if he were to cop out now and drink. There was only one thing to be done.

“Quidditch, he always beats me at quidditch.”

Hermione grudgingly downed the last shot.

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Ah morning; the birth of a new day. The sun warming the frostbitten ground with its shimmering rays as it makes the ascent to the heavens; the birds chirping merrily in welcome; the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the halls…

…And Hermione Granger cursing the lot of it to Hell as she snuggled into her pillow to block out the offending noises, smells, and sights.

Speaking of smells, there was definitely some strange ones emanating from her pillow, and it was scratchier than she recalled. Funny, she had had a dream about a pillow just like it. Malfoy was in it, and they had a—

A pillow fight!

She shrieked and jumped away from the pillow as if it had burned her, tumbling off the couch and into a heap on the floor. Swearing profusely she struggled to her feet, having it out with the world’s puffiest green blanket.

“Morning,” a deep, overly cheery voice spoke from above her. She fought to the surface of the covers and squinted up at the figure, only one thought on her mind.

Why didn’t I wear sunglasses to bed?

“Get out of my room, Malfoy,” she grumbled and pulled the blanket over her head. The very green blanket, that she was now tangled in because the foreign pillow she slept was practically a sexual predator and smelled like an old person’s dirty laundry. Not to mention, it was way too bright for a bedroom that only had one window.

But none of that seemed to register in her current state of hung-overness. Nope, all she could think about was the pounding in her head and getting back into unconscious as soon as possible.

“Granger, I’m going to need that blanket back, and you should really get down to breakfast and drink some non-alcoholic fluids.”

“Idonwanna,” she whined like a spoilt child, still hidden under the covers.

Draco crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, staring down at the mangled blob that was Hermione. If someone would have told him twenty-four hours ago that he would be watching the Gryffindor princess roll around on the floor in his designer goose-down comforter in her underwear, he would have slapped them silly. But here she was, in all her post-drunken glory. Now, how to go about getting her up…

“You’re naked you know,” he stated pointedly. She shrieked, then groaned, and then peeked her head out to glare at him.

“I am not, I’m just not fully clothed.”

Or in my bedroom! Oh what have I done!?

He nodded his head, letting her have that one.

“Umm… Malfoy? What exactly happened last night?” she asked, swallowing non-existent spit, dreading the answer. The night’s events felt like a dream, and she was only picking up bits and pieces of it at the moment, but more and more memories were flooding her mind as the morning progressed. The drinking, the questions, the answers!

Oh balls…

“Well, after I won the game you challenged me to a drinking contest. We finished off the bottle of Ogden’s, and you beat me over the head with the couch pillow until I agreed to get more from my room. When I came back down you were passed out on the floor. I put you on the couch but I see my efforts were wasted.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to digest it all. “I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled solemnly.

“Was that your first time?”

“What!? We didn’t, did we!? Oh hell, please say we didn’t!” she wailed, covering her face in her hands.

“Ok, we didn’t,” he shrugged.

“Don’t lie to appease me!” she yelled dramatically.

“Granger, I meant was that your first time drinking.”

There was silence from both sides.

“Oh… right…”

The silence continued.

“Well was it?”

“What?”

“Was that the first time you’ve ever drank?”

“Yes, and the last thank you very much!”

“That’s what they all say, my dear. For a first timer I’m kind of impressed you aren’t swimming in a puddle of puke this morning. Not bad at all.”

“Oh don’t say puke I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

“Not on my blanket you’re not!”

“Fine, fine…” she grumbled, struggling to her feet with the huge poof of a blanket wrapped tightly around her ‘not fully clothed’ body. She slumped to her bedroom and threw on the school robes she found on the floor, making a point not to glance at her reflection. She knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

Malfoy was waiting for her in the common room, and she tried not to look at his perfectly groomed hair and freshly laundered clothes when she handed him back his blanket. One thing about his appearance that she certainly didn’t remember from the night before was hard not to notice though. She almost laughed at it, but instead found that she was more hurt than amused. She had thought they were getting along and bonding during their date. She had trusted him enough to tell some pretty naughty secrets, and she had expected him to do the same. But obviously that wasn’t the case, and the evidence was plain as day, smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

“Nice pimple, Malfoy,” she sneered. She thrust the blanket roughly into his chest and stormed out the door, ready to eat her weight in greasy food and clog away her hurt feelings with the sweet taste of cholesterol.

Malfoy didn’t chase after her, he had bigger problems to attend to, much bigger. Knowing that the pimple could not be vanished with magic, he decided to dedicate the morning to dealing with the unsightly blemish the old fashion way.

Squeezing the shit out of it.


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Sorry no poems guys, their date went on longer than I had intended and this feels like a good place to stop. When we continue we will see Malfoy tackle the Ravenclaws. So, until next time…

Please read and review : )