Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Hello!! If anyone out there is still sticking with this story I thank you and I love you I deeply apologize for the S-L-O-W updates. My computer crashed… I lost everything I had written… which not only means I lost what was the original version of this chapter I also lost the ending to this story that I was so happy with (well, so happy that it HAD an ending)! GRR! I was also working on a sidepiece that I wasn’t going to upload until it was finished that I was really excited about. It was ‘detective’ Hermione going to investigate Narcissa’s murder at the Malfoy manor. It was like 1/3 of the way finished BUT it’s gone. I want to redo it eventually… I hope! Well enough of my whining, on with the story!

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“I still can’t believe you got invited to a party and we didn’t! And with Draco… ugh… I’m so jealous!”

“Oh Gin, please don’t remind me,” Hermione grumbled with her face in her hands. They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Harry and Ron to return from quidditch practice. Hermione didn’t really know if she was in the mood to see either of her two best friends, but she did know that she wasn’t in the mood to listen to Draco gloat about his most recent victory. Only that very morning he had topped of the Ravenclaw house, with the crowning of Michael Corner as ‘Poontang King.’

From out of the bush, comes a man like no other,
Lock up your girlfriend, and safeguard your mother.

He gives and he gets, he’s quite good with his thing.
No he’s not Father Christmas, he’s the Poontang King.

An adventurer down under, he’s surely no wussy.
With one goal in mind: To get him some—

“MR. MALFOY!”

McGonagall had given him a very loud and public talking to, but the little rat had somehow weaseled his way out of even one detention. It was completely unfair! And now she had to spend the night holed up in the Ravenclaw common room for a party in Draco’s honor.

She was trying really hard to not be such a pessimist and give him a little benefit of the doubt, but it wasn’t easy when he seemed so damn smug about everything. It would have helped if Ginny would have at least been on her side, but the red-haired girl was just like every other female in Hogwarts when it came to the Slytherin Prince. She thought Hermione was nuts to wait so long to sleep with him when they’d spent the whole year together.

“You could have an army of genius babies by now!”

Harry and Ron hadn’t said much to her on the subject. They’d chuckle a little at Malfoy’s latest poem, but after they’d just shrug it off like it was no big deal. They were well aware of the challenge and what it entailed if Malfoy did come off victorious, but even Harry, who acted like her father on most occasions, remained indifferent. Hermione didn’t know if she should be relieved, or worried that her friends were on the latest potion craze.

Finally, Ron and Harry came trudging through the portrait hole just as the sun had set and shrouded the high windows in darkness. They looked windblown and exhausted, but seemed to be in general good spirits.

“So what did we miss?” Harry asked, sitting down next to his ‘on again, off again’ girlfriend. Ginny snuggled up to him and sighed into his chest.

“Oh nothing much, just talking about Hermione’s second date with Malfoy tonight.”

Hermione shot her a death glare, but it changed directions when both Harry and Ron let out a low “pshh,” of disbelief and started laughing.

“Why is that funny?” she asked them, trying to hide the hurt from her voice by sounding angry. Ron pretended to be very interested in a nearby portrait of an old lady and her bulldog, but Harry wasn’t bothered by her tone.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s just, Malfoy can get any witch, Hermione. He probably has gotten any witch he’s wanted. He’s getting all this attention from these poems… Parvarti said her sister hasn’t shut up about Malfoy ever since your Herbology class… It’s just some great joke and a popularity scheme to him… Guys like that only go for one thing, big breasts and a pretty face… And well… you’re really smart…”

“And what’s that supposed to mean!?” she sneered, now genuinely ticked off.

“You know I care about you… I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“WHAT!?” she shrieked. “Get my hopes up about what, Harry? You think I’ll fall in love with Draco Malfoy and get hurt because, why would the great Malfoy want ME!? We all know how much men go for the BIG BRAINS! Boring, plain, know-it-all me, destined to spend my life in celibacy because RON can’t hold it in and no one else would ever like me! Is that what you think!?” She practically had tears in her eyes at this point. Harry saying everything that she secretly feared to be true—that she had thought to be true until her conversation with Hannah—hurt more than anything she’d ever felt.

“Hermione I didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” she choked out. “Looks like Draco isn’t the only one judging on looks. The difference is that I expected it out of him… I didn’t expect to hear it from my so-called best friend…”

With that she fled through the portrait that would take her to her own common room. She didn’t even stop to acknowledge Draco, who was lounging casually on the sofa, she just went straight to her dorm and threw herself on the bed.

Now she didn’t know what to think. For the past three days she’d been just like everyone else, cheering Malfoy along as he spouted his ridiculous poetry. She’d gotten it in her head that he might actually like her… She’d done exactly what Harry had warned her against.

She’d gotten her hopes up.

She wiped away a stray tear with the edge of her blanket, telling herself that none of it mattered. Another one fell down her temple and she knew it was a lie.

She let herself silently cry out the hurt she was feeling until she heard a knock at the door, breaking her out of her morose state. She jumped to sit up and hid her head behind a book.

“It’s opened,” she squeaked, her voice coming out soft and weak. A second later Draco was standing in her doorframe, looking just as he always did. Perfect.

The bastard.

“Where’ve you been all day?” he asked her. It wasn’t accusatory or condescending. It was just a question, like he really did want to know where she’d been.

“Gryffindor House,” she mumbled her response.

“Ahh… It all makes sense now,” he said in a mock serious tone. Hermione lowered her book to eye level and studied him. His facial expression was grave, but his eyes were glistening mischievously. She rolled her own and asked him what she knew he was waiting for, though it was against her better judgment.

“Alright Malfoy, what makes sense?”

“Well I told the Weasel to start wearing a bag on his head because he was scaring young children,” he started instantly, sounding very much like a Healer giving a diagnosis. “However, his grotesqueness is now far outreaching anything I could have foreseen… Keep up the tears and come with me to the Staff Room, I think we can get him covered up for good this time,” he finished dramatically. Hermione chucked her book at his head, laughing in spite of herself at the way he leapt to avoid it.

“Ha, ha, ha, you are so funny,” she glowered at him. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“Just checking to see if you were ready for our date. Since you’re still fully clothed I believe the answer is no.”

She groaned and slumped into her bed. She’d almost forgotten about the party with the Ravenclaws.

“I mean we don’t have to go. We can just have our own party. I’ll bring the booze, you bring the full frontal nudity, sounds like a party to me.”

Hermione rolled over to glare at him. He looked completely ridiculous, thrusting the air with his pelvis to the beat of a tune she couldn’t hear. She threw a pillow at him, but his smirk only widened.

“Can’t stop the funk, Granger,” he shrugged, wagging his eyebrows and grinning like a madman. Hermione felt a tingle of something she’d never known wash over her, and she couldn’t help but to laugh.

Though Harry’s words were still fresh in her mind, she grudgingly got off the bed and followed Draco out into the hall and down to the Ravenclaw common room. After all, even if Harry was right, it didn’t really matter. This whole thing was nothing more than a silly challenge that would end the moment the clock struck midnight on February 13th.

….Wasn’t it?

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Draco had completely misjudged the Ravenclaw house. At two in the morning the party was still going strong, and not one of them even showed the faintest signs of being ready to call it a night. At least twenty guys were huddled in the corner, watching Luna Lovegood dance with herself. She was swaying her hips in a circular motion that had every male within ten feet of her completely mesmerized. Draco had quickly turned away before the horrific thought that the loony girl might be a tad bit sexy was allowed to cross his mind. A few couples were grinding against one another in a different corner, and Terry Boot, who had organized the party, was standing on a table and singing.

Draco had to hand it to them. The Ravenclaws knew how to throw one hell of a party.

Though withdrawn a bit, Hermione wasn’t sulking… or drinking. She was living true to her vow to never drink again, though just about every person at the party had come over to offer. Draco had to admire her willpower, as he himself had caved to a firewhiskey and soda the second one was handed to him. He was casually sipping it while enjoying a surprisingly pleasant conversation with his date. Made even more pleasant by the fact that for once he knew something Hermione didn’t, a rare moment indeed.

“I mean they would be perfect together! They’re both intelligent, powerful magical beings with a love for education. I don’t see how you can continue to disagree with me!” Hermione protested. Draco tried to contain his glee as he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“He’s gay.”

“WHAT!?” she shrieked back at him. As everyone turned to stare at her, she suddenly envied Draco’s innate ability to always act so calm about everything. Blushing furiously, she cleared her throat and using her ‘indoor voice,’ repeated her question.

“What do you mean Dumbledore’s gay?” She took a sip of butterbeer and waited for a response.

“I mean he likes franks, beans, and doing it in the pooper,” Draco shrugged, before being sprayed from head to toe with the sweet smelling golden liquid that had yet to enter Hermione’s esophagus. A drop fell from Draco’s chin and landed in his own drink, making Hermione burst into fits of the giggles.

“Another shower gone to waste,” he growled out, not being as amused with his predicament as the Head Girl seemed to be.

“Serves you right for thinking all of Hogwarts is gay!” she retorted, glaring at him while the corners of her lips twitched. It wasn’t every day the self-proclaimed Sex God of Slytherin stood drenched in her backwash, after all.

“So what’s the punishment for being a Gay Dumbledore-aphobe?” he retorted.

“I am not! I just don’t think it’s right that you are going around telling everyone that the Headmaster is gay!” she shouted in a loud whisper.

Draco glared at her, casually took a sip of his drink before sneering, “Are too.”

Eventually Padma Patil made her way over to converse with them. She had impeccable timing, as both Hermione and Draco’s glares could have burned holes through less stubborn beings. The pretty Ravenclaw offered Hermione some sort of red concoction to which the Head Girl graciously declined.

“So how are Harry and Ron? You should have asked them to come, I haven’t talked to them in ages!”

With a fake smile plastered on her face, Hermione took the drink and downed it in one go.

Things only went downhill from there…

“Harry doesn’t know me because he’s all like ‘no I can’t be sexy’ but I can be I just like to read and just because I like to read doesn’t mean that I’m not a girl with pretty boobs and a big face!” she slurred in a drunken rant.

“Right… Maybe I should take that,” Draco replied, reaching for her fifth cup of red ‘jungle juice.’

“No!” she shrieked, clutching the glass like it was her very favorite teddy. “You’ll have to take it from my cold, dead fingers you big poo head!”

“You do know how to insult a man…” he sighed, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled a self-satisfied little smirk, clearly thinking she’d truly injured his ego.

“Do you think I’m sexy?” she pouted at random, sticking out her lower lip and swaying on the spot. He wrapped a steadying arm around her waist, gazing down into her glazed-over eyes.

All boners point to yes…

“Nope,” he replied solemnly. He’d never spoken a less true statement in his life. Seeing her laugh and not having her cringe or slap him when he touched her was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen her do. She’d finally lost her inhibitions around him, and though it took mass amounts of alcohol to get her to this point, he figured it was a start and he would take what he could get. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her in her muddled state; he was Draco Malfoy after all.

“Guess you’ll just have to prove it to me.”

“Well you guessed it for sure but I’ll sure show you!”

And she was off, slipping and stumbling her way across the room to where the group of men stood watching the loony bird. What happened next left every person stunned to a practically petrified state, their mouths hanging open and their chins on the floor.

Hermione had marched straight up to Luna Lovegood, grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Hard. Draco couldn’t believe his eyes, which were bugging out of his head at this point. His drink fell from his hand and spattered the floor and his designer shoes with red liquid, but he didn’t care. He could buy new shoes later, right now all he could think of was the crazy witch who was snogging the even crazier one.

When the two girls broke apart, the room erupted in cheers so loud he was positive the professors would soon be on their way to break up their fun and deduct house points. It was probably a good time to tuck in for the night. He fought his way over to the crowd around his date and the woman that had just gotten more action from her than he did (loony home wrecker!), and beckoned Hermione to follow him.

“The nargles may have got you tonight, but you’ll be safe with him,” Luna said dreamily as Draco escorted his belligerent date away from the party.

“Harron and Rarry think I’m just this boring girl who likes homework and booking but I’m not I think that maybe I’m just boring because they think that I’m boring and I’m stuck and can’t get out and have fun because people would think I’m crazy, you know?” she whined rather loudly once they were out in the empty hallway.

Was that English?

“Shh… yeah Granger, whatever you say,” he replied as if talking to a small child, having only understood half of what she was saying.

“Humph, you don’t know anything… If you had longer hair and liked bargles and snorkackers maybe I would have kissed you,” she slurred. Draco nervously glanced around the corridor. Though it may not be registering in the Head Girl’s current state of intoxication, if they were caught out like this they would be in massive amounts of trouble. He knew from experience however, that drunks were not easily shushed.

“Let’s see how quiet we can be.”

“Pshh... quieter than your big teeth…” she grumbled.

Luckily, she did stay somewhat muted for the remainder of the journey. Only when they reached their floor did she start back up again.

“Oh I’m so glad we’re back now because I have to pee soooo bad!” she exclaimed loudly. That was when Draco heard it. The cry of the mangy brown cat signaling to her master that she had found a student out of bed past curfew, and Draco knew that within moments Filch would arrive, as if some unknown magic connected him to the vile beast. As quietly as he could he whispered the password and held the portrait open for Hermione.

“Granger, in!” he commanded in a loud whisper.

“These paintings are pretty I wonder when I can paint one!”

“Picasso, in!” he tried again. The yellow eyes of Mrs. Norris appeared out of the darkness.

“Oh look a kitty!” Hermione squealed in delight.

She’s a goner, save yourself!

Then, from between his legs came another voice, one with an American accent strangely enough.

We need ‘er, man. Ya gotta go fer it.

…Does my penis really sound like that?

RUN YOU IDIOT!

GRAB HER!

Draco dashed to where Hermione sat petting the evil feline, threw her over his shoulder just as the dragging footsteps of Argus Filch filled the hall, and flung them both inside the portrait.

“If you fart I will pee on you,” Hermione grumbled.

“Lovely Granger, very ladylike. Now shut it!” he snarled back at her.

Draco cautiously placed his ear against the wall to check if they were in the clear or if they’d been seen.

“What is it, my sweet?”

He waited with bated breath, which was made difficult by the fact that Hermione had started poking him in the bum and giggling, but the effort to be stealthy was what counted!

“What way did they go? Sniff them out, love…”

The footsteps and voices grew louder. Draco was stock still, leaning as close to the portrait as humanly possible without pushing it open. Even Hermione sensed the seriousness of the situation and remained quiet.

“They can’t be far. Don’t worry my sweet, we’ll get them…”

Miraculously the sounds died away, like the caretaker and his ‘love’ were continuing their search elsewhere. Did the cat just give them a break because Hermione had been nice to it?

Nah…

“I get it Malfoy, the whole castle and Snape’s left butt cheek all get it… You’re a big, strong manly-man, now put me down!”

At this point Draco knew he had problems, big ones. He was dealing with a whiney, loud, obnoxious and bossy female, who had just said the phrase “Snape’s left butt cheek,” and yet he still wanted to snog her senseless.

“My offer to pee on you is still standing!”

She sounded like she meant it, so without further ado he carefully plopped her down on the couch and watched her slip and stumble her way up the stairs, holding onto the railing for dear life. It was a sight to behold… Hermione Granger acting like a teenager and not a thirty-year-old librarian. Hell had frozen over.

Around five minutes later she had finished her ‘business’ and was making her way back to the common room.

“I feel better now,” she said softly, her face flushing in embarrassment as she sat down next to him on their couch.

“Good to know.”

There was an awkward silent moment as they both avoided eye contact with one another. Draco inched closer to her. Their shoulders and thighs were touching ever so slightly, but she didn’t move away. Draco could feel the sexual tension like static electricity covering his entire body. He wanted to touch her, but was afraid of being turned down if he did. If he wasn’t turned down on the other hand… he was afraid he’d never stop.

Surprisingly, Hermione made the first move. Draco tensed as he felt her foot caressing his ankle.

“My feet are cold,” she stated innocently. Instead of responding, he chose to turn and face her. She was smiling mischievously at him with her plump, pink lips. He had to taste them. Now.

He was on her in an instant, pushing her back against the soft fabric of the couch as he attacked her mouth with his own. She fought back with equal intensity, pulling him into her by his broad shoulders and entangling her legs with his.

His teeth caught her lip and bit down, while his tongue glided along the soft flesh, persuading her to open for him. She obliged and sighed as his tongue met with hers, creating a dull ache between her legs. Her mind was blissfully blank of all thoughts that didn’t pertain to the sculpted, hunk of a man above her. He felt so good against her. She was hot all over and yet she only wanted to be closer to him. Anything to sooth the whooshing feeling from low in her gut.

When they came up for air Hermione wasted no time in telling him what she wanted.

“Ask me again.”

“Ask you what?” Draco questioned, nipping her ear and eliciting a soft moan from his blushing beauty. His erection strained at the noise. He’d never heard a more arousing sound in all his life.

“To have sex with you.”

He was wrong. Draco couldn’t believe his ears. It was what he had wanted since… since before he even knew when. So… why wasn’t he more excited? Why wasn’t he stripping her down this very second?

“Please.”

It took all the self-control he had ever possessed and then some in order to refuse her.

“I can’t… You’re drunk…” he whispered huskily.

Yes you can, yes you can, yes you can!

“Yes you can! I bet you’re even good at it!”

No arguments there…

“I—” He faltered. What was he doing? Where was this conscience thing when he had slept with Lavender Brown or Daphne Greengrass? They were perfectly nice girls, and he had had no problem taking them to bed even after they’d had a few too many drinks. What was so different about this time… about this girl?

“Please Draco… just do it!”

You heard the woman!

“But—”

“But flobberworms! It’s a win-win situation!” she pleaded in desperation. Why was he being so difficult!?

“How is it a win-win situation?” he challenged.

She rolled her eyes and huffed in frustration. “That’s so obvious! You don’t have to sing anymore and you get to do it. It’s like having your cow and eating it too!” she stated matter-of-factly, as if he was the intoxicated one.

“And how is it a win for you?” he asked calmly, raising a single eyebrow at her. He watched her face fall as the words got stuck in her throat. She hadn’t thought about that part. It was such a typical Gryffindor trait of hers, always thinking of others and never of herself.

“I… well… I mean I’m… I’m sick of your stupid poems!” she shouted. For a second she seemed shocked that she’d said such a thing, but she quickly fell into the stride and went with it. “And I’m sick of your stupid face! And I’m sick of my stupid friends! And I’m sick of being stuck in my own stereote—stereotel—”

“Stereotype?”

“Yes that! I’m so sick of just being well… me! So just… just get it over with already!”

“But you’re drunk and—”

“I promise I’ll leave you alone after I won’t be clingy or fall in love with you or anything like that so you don’t have to worry!”

Her wide, pleading eyes broke his heart. He, Draco Malfoy, was a giant arse… a bastard even, and Hermione knew it. Unlike every other witch he’d gotten with who thought they would be the one to finally chain him down, Hermione had no such expectations. She was much too smart for that and had too much self-respect to go chasing him around and fawning all over him for a little attention. She still saw the challenge as the game it was supposed to be, completely unaware that it had changed… that she had changed it… changed him.

For the first time that he could ever remember, he knew he was an arsehole, and he didn’t like that fact. He used to pride himself on that very characteristic! Now it made him sick to know how much his past was hurting his future.

“I’m going to bed,” he stated solemnly, purposefully avoiding her eyes. “Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

He stood facing the wall, waiting for her to stumble over to him so he could escort her to her bedroom. When he didn’t hear her move, he cautiously turned to face her. She was no longer looking at him, however. Her face was bowed into her knees, hidden by a mop of bushy hair.

“They were right,” she said softly.

“What?” Draco asked, voicing his confusion.

“Harry said that you were only doing this for attention… That you would never like me, or want me like you do Lavender or Pansy, because I’m not pretty enough.”

She looked up at him with an unblinking stare and an emotionless expression. Draco took a step backwards. He didn’t know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was… how beautiful she was, but the words wouldn’t come.

“He was wrong though too, because he said I was smart. If I was smart I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess in the first place.”

Then, with more grace than he had ever seen someone with so much alcohol in their bloodstream use, she stood and wobbled her way up the staircase to her bedroom. Still Draco stood silent. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he was really feeling. It would change his entire being. It would change the reputation he had built up over the past six years completely. But was his reputation worth protecting? Hadn’t he just realized that he didn’t like the things he’d done?

“Hermione I—”

“Keep going with the challenge,” she interrupted. “I hope you win even. You deserve the displeasure of sleeping with a lowly bookworm!”

She slammed the door, leaving him alone and confused, and not for the first time.

Now what was he supposed to do?

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Oh my GOD I thought this chapter would never get finished.
Sorry guys, Draco is going to have to work a little harder to get his woman lol. And no she won’t be drinking again for a long time I imagine. And yes you will find out what he lied about if it isn’t that obvious, I already have that part written : ) And no I’m not sure I actually know what poontang is… And yes I think I’m done now… Thanks for reading!!!