Play on Words

Revised Edition of Sent DiligioPlease note that, under this story's completion, Sent Diligio will be forever deleted.

It was supposed to be a school play! If I'd had known it intended to ship me off to this primitive imaginary world with none other than bucktoothed Granger, I never would have signed up. The only bloody reason I signed up anyways was to skip class, but that's another point entirely. DHr. AU, written in 2005. Revised edition of Sent Diligio

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; this applies to the entire story.

Written and completed in 2005, though looking back, I shudder at the disgusting writing. Finally got around to rewriting the whole thing! If you guys are too impatient for updates, the whole thing's already up in another story under this account, titled SENT DILIGIO. However, the quality is very poor and I discourage you from reading it, as it will ruin your experience of reading this newer version.

This beginning chapter is rather weird, told in two point of views. After writing this, I have concluded I much rather writing from Draco's point of view (first) instead of Hermione's (second), maybe because I'm such a sarcastic person to begin with. Hopefully it'll seem enough obnoxious to you!

Enjoy & review!

Once again, this story is rather AU and takes place in their seventh year; the war is not yet heavy.

Chapter One

The beginning of the school year was nothing spectacular, and it was getting rather drab. It was September, and, as I have come to realize, the best September this school had ever met was the same September I was Sorted as a first year. As the years passed, September seemed to grow less exciting and held more of a dreary dullness. Now, in my seventh year, September 1st was positively boring, listening to that old coot drone on and on about some nonsense or whatsoever – you know, the things that only know-it-alls such as that one Mudblood Granger cares to listen to.

The Sorting this year was rather droll as compared to the brilliance of mine. That Sorting Hat must be suffering from old age of sorts, what with the Sortings growing more boring as each year passed by. The first years even look more insignificant than ever. Why, when I was a first year, I'll have you know that I was something grand, not at all like… David Blechman, was that his name? Scrawny little bloke with a too pointy face, if you ask me.

"I am proud to say that this year, there will be a special event being hosted at Hogwarts!" the old coot that others might call the Headmaster proclaimed, his eyes twinkling. Snape – the only proper teacher in the entire bloody school – frowned, his brows furrowed in disagreement. I knew that my godfather disagreed with Dumbledore's cheerful statement, though proper manners restricted him from otherwise revealing his opinions. "This year, we will be hosting a school play for school unity!"

I could laugh at this statement. Unity? If he expected me and Potter to just hit off within these next few weeks, he's got a St. Mungo's referral letter coming to him. I could just imagine the scenario: "Hey, Potter, I'm sorry you're such an arsehole and a Mudblood-lover. Let's be best friends forever." This coot clearly had too much to drink last night. If my father heard about this!

A sneer crossed my face as my eyes fell on the Gryffindor table. One glance ensured me that Potter felt the same way toward me; he had no intention of befriending me anytime soon. Not that he had any to worry about – I would never stoop down to his level, anyways. My lips curled a little further before I redirected my attention back onto the Headmaster.

"But not just any play!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. I had been waiting for this. He was always so dramatic. The fact remained that it was a play, and you could bloody well be catching me professing my undying love to Granger before I willingly audition for a play. "Hogwarts will be creating its own play, with our very own directors, scriptwriters, actors, stage crew, make-up artists, and more!"

Creating a play. That's bloody exciting! I can't wait! Why don't we just paint our fingernails and curl our hair while we're at it? Or, better yet, someone Avada me now.

"All years are invited to participate. You will find a sheet of parchment in your common room; take a copy and fill in what you would like to do and turn them into your Head of House. Those who are accepted will have schedule adjustments." He beamed across the Great Hall.

I paused. Schedule adjustments? Did that mean –

Weasley said something loudly from the Gryffindor table. I glared at him for asking another of his stupid questions – not that I actually listened to his question, as they were always stupid. The arsehole couldn't help but be an attention-seeker every other bloody minute.

"Oh yes! I have seem to forgotten that little bit," the old coot said brightly. "Those who participate in the play will have fewer classes to give time to construct the play, which I expect to be in top form. Those of you who wish not to participate will have the normal course schedule."

Who would've known that the coot could read minds? Better watch myself around him from now on – hang on. Did he just say –

"Fewer classes!" Blaise said from the other side of Goyle. "What d'you reckon?"

Well, screw Granger and me professing my love. Let's skip right on to participating in the play!

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Mr. Weasley had hinted at something particularly exciting this year – nothing on the Triwizard Tournament, of course, but something more than the normal course. "What do you think?" Ron was asking Harry in an undertone. "Maybe it'll be something like the maze – always wondered how that one worked out – he's going to give us practical training before, you know, You-Know-Who comes back!"

"Maybe it'll be a field trip," I suggested from beside Harry. "Maybe we'll go to the Muggle world, you know – it would be nice to see how those Slytherins would fare." We all glanced simultaneously over our shoulders toward the Slytherin table. "Maybe that would teach them to respect us Muggleborns more," I finished somewhat smugly.

"Muggle world?" Ron looked oddly blank. "But I – "

"Shush!" I whispered hurriedly, elbowing Harry – who was quite in my way, so I couldn't get to Ron – sharply in the ribs. He gasped and glared at me, but I paid no attention. The Headmaster was speaking.

"I am proud to say that this year, there will be a special event being hosted at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore said jovially, his eyes twinkling. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Snape looked rather disapproving. "This year, we will be hosting a school play for school unity!"

"A school play!" I gasped, clutching Harry's arm. While it was nothing on a field trip to the Muggle world or completing a maze as Harry did in the Triwizard tournament, it would certainly be exciting. "For school unity! How brilliant!"

"School unity?" Harry and Ron both said blandly, looking over their shoulders at what I knew to be the Slytherin table. No doubt they were analyzing the possibilities of befriending Malfoy. I sighed at their immaturity.

"If that means befriending Malfoy," Ron said loudly, "then no bloody way. I think I'd rather take a turn in my grand-uncle's coffin, thanks. Mind you, he keeps decapitated frog p – "

"Thank you, Ron," I said sharply. Dumbledore was talking – and besides, I do not in the least want to know what his grand-uncle kept in his coffin.

"But not just any play!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Hogwarts will be creating its own play, with our very own directors, scriptwriters, actors, stage crew, make-up artists, and more!"

Creating a play. That would explain so much. I squealed in excitement as I clutched Harry's arm a little harder. I barely noticed him wince.

"What?" Harry said, annoyed, trying to pry his arms from my vice grip.

With a small apologetic smile, I removed my hands. "Sorry."

"It's fine." He shook his arm, trying to regain blood flow. "So what was that about?"

"Creating a play – it would require everyone to work together, and right before the war – " I stopped short. Dumbledore was about to talk again; as Harry and Ron both looked at me expectantly, I hissed, "Listen!"

As I predicted, Dumbledore continued in his explanation. "All years are invited to participate. You will find a sheet of parchment in your common room; take a copy and fill in what you would like to do and turn them into your Head of House. Those who are accepted will have schedule adjustments." He beamed across the Great Hall.

Schedule adjustments? I looked at both Ron and Harry, their confusion equally evident on their faces. Surely that didn't mean –

"Schedule adjustments?" Ron said, voicing our thoughts aloud.

"Oh yes! I have seem to forgotten that little bit," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Those who participate in the play will have fewer classes to give time to construct the play, which I expect to be in top form. Those of you who wish not to participate will have the normal course schedule."

I faltered slightly. Fewer lessons? My eyes flickered over to Harry and Ron; none of them shared my predicament. If anything, their cheer was even brighter.

"You can't possibly think of not being in the play," Ron said as I showed no intention of participating.

"But fewer lessons, Ron!" I said, shocked by his carefree manner. "This is our NEWT year!"

"Yeah, but think, Hermione," Harry said, trying to be reasonable before another argument crossed between Ron and me again. "You said it yourself – it was meant to unify us and to help prevent the war's damage."

I faltered slightly. I did say that, and I thought it to be true. "Yes, that's important, but – "

"Listen, Hermione, if Voldemort – "

"You-Know-Who!" Ron said through gritted teeth as he winced at Voldemort's name.

Harry ignored him as he always did. " – if Voldemort comes to your house, he doesn't care about how many NEWT's you've got. What we've got to do know is mostly to help the Slytherins and other people who might potentially fall into a Death Eater's footsteps." He paused, looking at me straight in the eye. "And that's more important than all the NEWT's in the world."

Harry somehow managed to convince me to participate in the bloody play that night. Bloody git. He should be a lawyer.

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"Hogwarts School Play," Blaise read aloud, picking up a sheet of parchment from the rather large and ominous-looking pile that greeted us the moment we entered the Slytherin common room. "I think this is the thing the Headmaster was talking about."

"Really?" I sneered, taking a piece of parchment for myself. "I hadn't known." Take a few more steps in the direction, Zabini, you're headed and you'll be right alongside Crabbe, I assure you.

"Just making sure," Blaise replied as he pulled out a quill, seating himself down casually at one end of the table. "I'm surprised that hanging around Crabbe and Goyle that much over the course of the years hasn't stupefied you to the extent of Longbottom yet. 'Course, no offence to you, Crabbe, Goyle." He nodded to each one in turn.

I smirked. Beside me, Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, and I highly doubt that they'd picked up on the fact that they've just been insulted. "Life is full of surprises," I mutter, pulling out my own quill and ink bottle.

"Yeah," Blaise readily agreed under his breath. "First one came when Granger beat you tenfold in school."

If he thought I hadn't heard that! "It's not my fault that all the teachers have got favorites and Granger's a little know-it-all," I sneer sourly. He opened his mouth to retort, and I immediately reached for my wand, holding it in front of him. "And even if she does win by a landslide in school, I still know plenty of hexes that could land you long-time in the Hospital Wing."

He chortled slightly and I thought I heard him repeat the word "landslide." I chose to ignore this as mature as I was and continued on to actually read the parchment in front of me.

I glanced hopefully over at Goyle's sheet, though looking back, it might not have been the most intelligent idea I've come up with. But I was never good with plays – I mean, Merlin's beard, they're plays, and I'd rather go and play Quidditch or something worth my time (better yet, goading Potter and Weasley, a rather inviting idea) – and I didn't know the least about them, from ACTING down to the bottom of the list, ZEBRA.

…Hang on, isn't a zebra some kind of an animal? This bloody sheet must've been written by that great oaf Hagrid. A zebra must have six fangs, three eyes and twenty sharp claws or something of that matter. Why the oaf still is at Hogwarts is beyond me, the blundering fool.

Acting. Is that what those idiots do on the stage? I'd much rather spend my time doing something other than making a fool of myself in front of the world. That's only for people like Weasley and Longbottom.

Scroll down to the middle; make-up – no, I will not even finish reading this. Anything that begins with "make-up" ends in "death sentence." Not that I would know anything about it – you know, being the macho man I am, of course.

Lighting. That sounded too much like lightning, and I don't know if you know this dolt, but there's this idiot I know with a lightning shaped scar on his head. I'd rather be caught dead than do something that even remotely has anything to do with him.

This was bloody pointless. I passed my sheet to Crabbe. "Fill it out for me; I'm going to turn in for the night before the shower's grabbed," I declared, standing.

Once again, looking back, that probably was one of the worst decisions I've ever made in my life.

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"WHAT? YOU SIGNED ME UP FOR BLOODY ACTING?"

"Draco, please. It's too early for this," Blaise groaned, turning over in his bed, pulling his pillow over his head.

I fumed. "You couldn't have picked, I don't know – " Thing was, I didn't know of what else was on that bloody list, besides lighting, that make-up thing, and the strange zebra position.

"You were asking for it when you handed it to him," Blaise muttered, pulling his covers over his head as well, his voice now well muffled. "Be thankful he didn't sign you up for hairdresser or costume designer – or worse, make-up artist."

"And if you don't want to do it," Nott muttered, equally disgruntled, "you can just fail during auditions."

Failing during auditions. Making a fool out of myself on purpose in front of a couple of judges would be far better than making a fool of myself in front of an entire audience. But see, there's still the little issue of me making a fool of myself – and, as a Malfoy, I never make a fool of myself. Despite what you might hear from Weasley. He's got the twisted, twisted truth. So twisted, in fact, it's not even the truth anymore. It's a lie.

"Acting! Of all the bloody things – "

Crabbe grunted. As stupid as he was (and as stupid I admit he is), he had caught on that I was angry at him. Good. Let him suffer this wrath of fury.

He probably only picked it because it was the first on the list. I bet you he doesn't even know how to read. And acting had to be the first on the list.

" – you couldn't have picked something else, but ACTING! If – "

"JUST DON'T GO TO THE AUDITIONS!" Blaise roared, thoroughly irritated.

… Don't go to the auditions. That is a brilliant idea. I surprise myself sometimes with my brilliance.

"Draco!"

A familiar squeal reverberated throughout the dorm. I heard Blaise groan; right after I decided to forgive Crabbe and, out of the kindness of my heart, granted them some quiet, Pansy decided to come. She burst in through the door, smiling brilliantly in delight.

"I heard you signed up for acting!"

"Err…"

I hadn't quite comprehended what she was doing before it was too late. Grabbing me by the wrist (who would've thought that girls had the strongest grip known to mankind? It should not be allowed!), she dragged me out the door, chattering excitedly. It was still early in the morning, and not one word of it was understood by me.

Somehow, somehow, I found myself thrown into the auditions room before seven in the morning with nothing but a word of good luck coming from a girl I wanted to kill with my own hands.

Hope you enjoyed it; please review. Note that with so many other stories up and the fact that I'm only rewriting this one, I will discontinue this revision if I don't get enough reviews. Sorry to be this way – I probably will continue a couple years from now if I ever get free time, but right now, I'm a little busy. (sad face)