Disclaimer: O woe is me. I do not own thee, my beloved Harry Potter-e -burst out laughing- I'm such a poet. -chuckle-
It was a typical day at Hogwarts. . . . Students were learning, teachers were teaching . . . and Peeves was terrorizing everyone in sight. Meanwhile, Filch, the caretaker – in his relentless battle against the pesky poltergeist – was acting as if he had a giant stick up his . . . well, you know. For all you and I know, he might actually have one . . . but that is a story for another day. Let us now focus on Professor Binns's sixth year class.
The ghost professor droned on and on and on about goblin wars – able to make even this bloody subject as boring as watching paint dry – completely oblivious to the glazed-eyed and snoring students
in his classroom. Most of the Slytherins had long ago fallen asleep, as well as some of the Gryffindors; a few, though, made the effort. There was, after all, their grade to worry about.
Hermione Granger, of course, was sitting up straight in her seat, scribbling down every word that came out of Professor Binns's transparent mouth. Her friends, Harry and Ron, had long ago given up, willing to rely on Hermione's intelligence; Harry doodled absentmindedly on his notes and, occasionally, the desk while Ron had fallen asleep within minutes, a small puddle of drool forming beneath his right elbow.
Two witches, a blond and black-haired sat behind them. The blond was buried in A History of Magic whilst the other only gazed at the far wall, directly through the professor, daydreaming.
"I'm so bored," the latter whispered suddenly.
"Mmm?" No response, her friend only turned a page in her book.
"Sevenne!" She raised her voice as loud as she dared, tapping her on the shoulder.
"What?"
"I'm bored." The blond – Sevenne – sent a quizzical expression her way, arching her right eyebrow in the process.
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she replied.
"I don't know. Don't you have an extra book or something?'
"Nope. Well . . . none that would interest you, anyway. Sorry, Michelle." The blond looked genuinely apologetic as the black-haired witch sighed mournfully, continuing her staring-contest with the wall. Quite suddenly, she sat up straight, an idea having popped, fully-formed into her brain.
"Sevenne," she whispered, turning to her friend excitedly.
"What now?"
A mischievous grin spread over Michelle's face. "I have an idea for a prank," she murmured in a sing-song voice before leaning forward to whisper into the other witch's ear. Finally, Sevenne leaned back, the same exact grin spreading steadily over her face.
"Very nice, my friend. So, will you do it or shall I?"
"You," Michelle replied immediately, "I can't draw for crap. I'll just deal with everyone else."
Nodding, Sevenne reached into her bag to extricate a black Sharpie and, leaning forward, began to draw . . . on Ron's arm. Several students, including Harry and Hermione turned, watching the blond witch's progress.
"What are you doing?" Hermione looked as if she were trapped between being amused and scandalized.
"Drawing the Dark Mark on his arm," Sevenne responded matter-of-factly, still focused intently on her task. Hermione gasped waking a few members of the class from their stupor. Thankfully, Ron was a heavy sleeper; he didn't budge save for a soft snore.
"Shh!" Sevenne looked up to glare at Hermione. "Are you trying to wake him up?"
"Well, I should. You could cause some serious damage."
"Oh, lighten up, Hermione. It's just a silly prank." Michelle sent the brunette a reassuring smile which she returned half-heartedly, looking dubious.
"But-"
Michelle shook her head emphatically. "No, listen, Hermione. I know this is hard, but it's just gonna be a funny prank. So, can you please go along with this? Please? Even if Ron wakes up, just keep taking notes; act as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Okay?"
Slowly, Hermione nodded, looking as if this were against her better judgment.
"Great, thanks." She beamed before turning her attention to the room at large. Curious faces peered back at her.
"Okay, guys, we're going to pull a prank on Ron and I need all of your cooperation for it to work. Alright?"
Each head bobbed in turn; a few of the Slytherins had malicious grins plastered over their faces. Pansy Parkinson's pug face, despite her best intentions, had split into a wide smirk.
"Now, fellow Gryffindors," Michelle continued, "I want all of you to ignore Ron, no matter what. If he makes you look at him, just act all scared and disgusted. Got it? And Slytherins, I want you all to look at him in admiration. . . ."
"You're kidding, right?" Blaise Zabini hissed. "Treat that blood traitor like he's one of us?" Several other Slytherins nodded in agreement with Zabini's statement.
"I know this might be hard for you all, but it must be done. Blaise, you can ignore him if it makes it easier for you, but it would be better if at least some of you looked awestruck. And Malfoy, I'll need your help especially."
From his spot next to Blaise, Draco perked up.
"Oh?" He arched a perfect, blond brow questioningly.
She turned her attention to Draco,who was sitting next to Blaise.
"How is your acting?"
The Slytherin shrugged. "Okay, I guess."
"Well, you'll need to be more than 'okay.' Your performance is integral to this prank. Just follow my lead, alright?" At Draco's nod of assent, Michelle turned to her partner-in-crime.
"Ready?"
Sevenne spoke through gritted teeth. "Hold on . . . almost . . . done!" she whispered triumphantly. Grinning, she displayed her masterpiece to her friend.
"That's perfect! Now . . . you know what to do?" Sevenne nodded and, with a flick of her wand, ropes appeared around the other witch's wrists, binding them to the desk. A few Gryffindors gasped, but neither girl reacted.
"Where's your wand?" Sevenne asked and was answered with a motion of Michelle's head toward the desk. Nodding, Sevenne grabbed her friend and led her – at a crouch so as not to attract Binns's attention – toward Draco's desk. Quite calmly, Michelle settled herself on the floor next to Draco, head leaning against her legs, looking utterly woebegone.
"What-?" Draco began.
"You'll catch on later on," Sevenne explained. "Oh, and before I forget. Harry, you'll need to act betrayed, okay?"
"But, what am I. . . ?"
"You'll understand later," Michelle cut him off this time, "but just do what we say for now, 'kay?"
"Alright. . . ."
"Good, everyone take your places. It's showtime." Grinning at her best friend, Sevenne scurried back to her seat behind Harry and their "victim" and, as silently as she could, Levitated Ron's pile of books from the desk onto the floor with a loud slap. Ron woke with a start, peering dazedly around the room for the catalyst of the noise.
"Wha-" Ron croaked, blinking dazedly. Professor Binns was still droning on about Merlin knows what and the students were in their usual state of stupor . . . except Hermione, of course. But . . . narrowing his eyes in concentration, Ron saw several studying him fearfully while a couple of Slytherins were grinning at him and sending him thumbs-ups. What was going on?
"Hermione, hey. . . ." If anyone could explain this strange change, it would be his know-it-all friend . . . but Hermione just kept scribbling away. He scratched his head of red hair, turning instead to his best mate.
"Harry. . . ." He expected to meet his best friend's laughing green eyes, but instead they were filled with an incredible coldness, an ice he had only seen when facing Death Eaters or Voldemort . . . but never him. Not Ron, his best mate. Surely not. . . .
"Harry, what's wrong?" Cautiously, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, but Harry shrugged it off almost instantly.
"Don't speak to me, you filthy Death Eater," Harry spat, glaring at him venomously.
"What? Harry, I'm not a Death Eater. I would never . . . how could you . . . I thought you knew." Ron couldn't think, there had to be a way to prove . . . of course!
"I don't have the Dark Mark, Harry! Look!" Rolling up the left sleeve of his robes, he shoved his forearm into his best friend's face. And froze, for there was a skull, black a night, with a serpent protruding from its' mouth.
"Right, definitely not a Death Eater. Don't speak to me, Weasley." Ron could only sit there, shaking like a madman. How is this possible, this . . . this must be a bad dream.
"Way to go, Weasley!" Theodore Nott called. "I never knew you had it in ya!" Ron buried his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth . . . back and forth. Suddenly, he stood up, swiveling to face Hermione's down-turned expression.
"Hermione . . . Hermione, please you have to believe me. I'm not a Death Eater. I don't know how that got there. Please!" Still, the bushy-haired brunette refused to meet his eyes; tilting his head, Ron could see tears pouring down her cheeks.
"Let go of me," she whispered which only made Ron tighten his hold, desperate.
"No, you have to believe me."
"No, Ronald. You betrayed us all. Leave me alone." Hermione's voice was as cold as Harry's and Ron dropped his arms, as if wounded. Meeting his eyes for just a moment, Hermione glared, her chocolate-brown eyes narrowed in loathing, before dropping her gaze to her notes once more.
"No . . . no. . . ." Ron muttered under his breath, slumping against the desk. Could things get any worse?
Yes, apparently they could. A scream issued from the back of the room; rushing over, Ron spotted Michelle, hands bound, hunched in front of Malfoy's chair.
"What did you do to her, Malfoy?" Ron roared. The class jumped in fright – all except Binns – yet Malfoy simply regarded him coolly. No one spoke for a moment . . . until Michelle's head snapped up, tears cascading down her pink cheeks.
"He didn't do anything to me. It was you, Ron, all you. How could you?" she wailed.
"How could I what? What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. How you showed your true allegiance to Voldemort . . . how you captured me . . . how you gave me to Voldemort, a bloody prize . . . how he made me Malfoy's sex slave!" With a choked sob, the dark-haired witch buried her face in her hands.
"N-no, I didn't. Michelle, please. . . ."
"Don't speak her name!" Harry shouted, rising from his chair and striding toward his friend. "Because of you, I lost my sister – my only family – to him. She will never be the same again, thanks to you!"
"Harry, no. . . ."
"You freaking bastard, I should kill you!" The Boy-Who-Lived lunged toward his former best friend, but was restrained, just barely, by Dean and Seamus.
"Don't, Harry. He's not worth it." Sevenne spoke up now as she placed a hand over Harry's chest, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Sevenne, you have to believe. . . ." Sparks of pain made their way up Ron's cheek; he stared at Sevenne, hand cupped around his throbbing cheek, hers drawn back for another smack.
"There's nothing you can do, Weasley. You gave my best friend to Voldemort; that is unforgivable. Do you really think I'll believe you?" Entwining Harry's fingers through her own, the blond led the incensed boy back to his seat, consoling him as best she could.
Tears still streamed down Michelle's cheeks as she leaned against Malfoy's knee, his fingers running through her long, silken hair.
"Michelle. . . ." He tried again, only to be cut off – yet again – this time by Draco.
"I have to say, Weasley; I never really thought you'd amount to anything, but this . . . this is quite beneficial to me. I mean, I get my own, personal sex slave, courtesy of the Dark Lord. And what makes it even better is that she's Potter's sister." A smirk lit Draco's pale features.
"You asshole. If you hurt her, I'll. . . ." Ron's fist clenched.
"You'll what? Risk your life to save hers? The Dark Lord certainly won't be happy with you. And that seems a bit redundant don't you think – you practically gave her to me in the first place. I can do whatever. I. Want. For example, Michelle – kiss me." His tone brooked no arguments.
On shaky legs, Michelle stood from the floor, seating herself on Draco's lap. Somehow slipping her hands around his neck in her impromptu manacles, she kissed him full on the mouth, tears still streaming from her closed eyelids. Ron watched in horror as Draco pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss.
"You bastard, Malfoy!" Harry shouted. Breaking the kiss, Draco smirked in his rival's direction before turning back to Michelle.
"More. I want more," he ordered, pushing her chin up so as to attack her neck. Michelle allowed herself a soft moan, grabbing a fistful of platinum-blond hair.
"N-no." Ron backed up, hardly caring as he ran into a desk. There were Harry and Sevenne glaring at him hatefully . . . Hermione looking out at him through her tears . . . and the entwined couple only feet from him. . . .
"I'm sorry . . . so, so sorry." Stumbling to his seat, Ron sat down and promptly knocked himself out. For a moment, one could have heard a pin drop in the room . . . right before it erupted into ear-splitting cheers and laughter.
"Yes! We did it! Michelle, we did it!" Sevenne crowed excitedly, turning to her friend, ready for a high-five, startled to see her still twisted in the Slytherin boy's embrace.
"Michelle?"
No response, save for a moan Sevenne was sure wasn't directed toward her.
"Erm, Michelle . . . the prank's over now, you can stop."
The couple's lips broke apart with an almost audible snap and Michelle turned to her friend, a mystified expression on her flushed face. It took all of the blond's willpower not to start laughing then and there – Michelle's dark hair was completely disheveled, her lips were bright red and swollen, and there was a clear bite mark on her neck. Draco didn't look much better – his hair stuck up at odd angles, much like Harry's and his pale face was unusually flushed.
"Oh . . . um, right," Michelle stammered, though she didn't make a move to begin to extricate herself from the boy's lap. Sevenne chuckled in amusement and, with a flick of her wand, the ropes binding her wrists disappeared.
"Thanks." Rubbing her chafed wrists together, Michelle joined her friend back at her proper desk.
A wide grin stretched Sevenne's face. "No problem. . . . Oh, nearly forgot. Scourgify," she whispered, pointing her wand at Ron's arm, causing all evidence of their prank to disappear.
Michelle smiled absentmindedly, running distracted fingers through her tresses in an effort to make herself look presentable.
"Here, you might need these." Taking pity on her friend, Sevenne handed her a hairbrush and a small pocket mirror.
"What-?" Confused, Michelle gestured at the mirror.
"Your neck."
"My. . . ." Still appearing slightly dazed, Michelle trained the mirror on her neck where it was possible to see several bite marks . . . and it didn't take a genius to figure out from who. With another quick Scourgify, she was good as new and, running a hand through her hair one final time, gestured to Sevenne to enact the final stage of their plan.
"Ennervate!" she murmured, pointing her wand at the stunned redhead. With a start he woke, hands clutching at his chest as he looked around the room, eyes as wide as a madman's.
"Ron, what's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned for his best friend's mental state.
"What. . . ? Harry, wha-?"
"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione glanced up from her notes as she studied her friend.
"Wait . . . you – you don't hate me?"
"No, of course not. Why would I?" Harry was looking more confused by the second.
"But you . . . I . . . and Michelle. . . . Michelle!" With a cry of joy, Ron ran to the dark-haired girl and hugged her tightly.
"Whoa, Ron!" Michelle laughed, wrapping her arms around the tall boy's neck to keep from falling "What is up with you?"
The ecstatic redhead didn't answer, only countered her question with one of his own. "You're not Malfoy's sex slave, right?" he asked fearfully.
"Wha-what?" It was Michelle's turn to stutter; she turned to glare at Sevenne who was shaking with mirth, pounding the desk to prevent giggles from pouring out of her mouth.
"Ronald Weasley! Of course Michelle isn't his sex slave! What would ever make you think that?" Hermione chastised, blushing deeply.
Ron, however, was barely listening; instead, he was intently focused on rolling up the left sleeve of his robes. . . .
And there was nothing there.
"Nothing, Hermione. Don't worry about me, I'm totally fine." Barely restraining himself from jumping up and down with glee, Ron once again seated himself, a huge smile on his face. It only took him two more minutes to succumb to Professor Binns's soporific tones.
Behind him, however, both girls were doing their best to stifle their laughter.
"Mission accomplished." Sevenne raised a hand for a much-needed high five.
Michelle shook her head. "Not quite, my friend. Look at Draco. Do you see anything different?"
Surreptitiously, Sevenne swiveled to see the blond Slytherin. "Not really. . . . He just has a stupid grin on his face from that oh-so-steamy kiss." She snickered as Michelle blushed.
"Not that! Look closer," she whispered.
"What are you talking about? He looks perfectly norm-" Sevenne broke off and turned to face Michelle, eyes wide.
"You gave him a hickey?" she whispered, awestruck.
"Yep. Right for the world to see."
"Dear Merlin, Michelle. . . ."
But Michelle cut her friend off. "Now, it's mission complete." The dark-haired girl returned her friend's high-five, giggling at Draco's besotted expression.
And Binns still droned on. When, oh, when, would this class end?