Slytherin Studies
[FLASHBACK CONT.]
"What kind of game?" asked Hermione somewhat fearfully unable to take her eyes off the firewhiskey now in front of her. Truth be told, Hermione had never in her life drank anything stronger than a butterbeer and had no idea how she would react to it. What if she ended up dancing on the tables? Or worse, what if she ended up sleeping with Crabbe or Goyle? Or worse yet, Crabbe and Goyle? Ooh, she did not just think that. No one could ever get that drunk, could they? Still, she wished it wasn't Crabbe and Goyle that she was going to have her first alcohol related experience with. There was no telling what stupid ass game they had come up with. It was Crabbe and Goyle for goodness sake. It would probably be something perverted.
"We thought up a game especially for you. A study game," said Goyle. And he actually said it with a straight face. He couldn't be serious. Studying with Crabbe and Goyle? That had to be a joke. It had joke written all over it. However, she doubted very much that Goyle actually had a sense of humor. Of course, there were some (okay a lot) who would say the very same thing about her. Bastards.
"You want to study? With me?" she asked incredulously. She definitely would not have guessed that. For studying with Hermione Granger was not for the faint of heart. Even Harry and Ron didn't want to study with her. She could be a real taskmaster or as Ron liked to say, "a real bitch." She had been thinking Crabbe and Goyle would come up with some idiotic kind of game like spin the bottle or truth or dare. Something more like what an idiot would come up with.
"Like Crabbe said, because of Malfoy, we almost had to stay back a year. McGonagle wouldn't pass us until we proved we learned enough to keep up with the work in seventh year. We've somehow managed to test out of every class except potions. It seems there is a new potion's professor this year because that wuss Slughorn went into hiding after Dumbledore was killed. McGonagle wouldn't say who it was, but he sounds like a real prick. We have to test through him personally. That's why we came up with a study game. You are going to help us pass."
"What's in it for me?" asked Hermione.
"Ah, there's the Slytherin in you. Well, you want to know about Malfoy, right? All you have to do is stump us with a sixth year potions question, and we'll tell you whatever you want to know. The questions have to be from Slughorn's class, nothing from your extracurricular reading. We want to pass, not become potion masters. We get one minute to answer with the notes. For every question we miss, we'll take a drink and answer truthfully to anything you ask us."
Hermione looked at the notes that were now in front of them. She could hardly read them, for they both had atrocious penmanship, but there weren't very many pages, and she figured they probably took crap notes anyway. "How do I know that you'll answer truthfully?"
"You can do a truth spell," replied Goyle.
"What's in it for you?" asked Hermione warily.
"Ah, thank you for asking. Well, besides passing our potion's exam, we thought we might have a little fun along the way. All studying and no play make very dull boys you know. So, for every question we get right, you take a drink and remove a piece of clothing. Kind of like an incentive for us working so hard," answered Goyle.
"We like to call it strip studying," grinned Crabbe.
Hermione didn't know quite what to say to that. No, wait a minute. Yes, she did. "There is no way in hell that I am playing strip studying with you! Are you out of your fucking minds?" cried Hermione outraged at the very thought. That was almost sacrilege. Leave it to Crabbe and Goyle to turn studying into something perverted.
"Do you want your questions answered or not?" asked Goyle.
"Yes, but I'm not stripping for it! I already agreed to kiss you. Believe me, that is a high enough price to pay."
"Look at it this way; this is your opportunity to get out of kissing us. Stump us with a question; we drink. Get us drunk enough, we pass out. No kiss. You're off the hook. Besides, it's not as though you aren't wearing enough clothing."
Hermione thought about this. It did go in with her original plan of getting them so drunk they couldn't kiss her. And she really did not want to kiss them. And she really was wearing a God-awful amount of clothing. She was getting so warm in fact that she might even start with an easy question just so she could take off Mrs. Weasley's horrid orange jumper. There was really no way they could answer enough questions that she would run out of clothing. It was Crabbe and Goyle after all. They'd be lucky to answer her easy question. Hermione would have never thought it of herself, but she was actually considering playing something called strip studying. And with Crabbe and Goyle of all people.
"I don't know. It's not very fair, is it? I've never had a drink in my life and you two lushes could probably drink my body weight and not even feel it. If anyone's going to pass out, it will probably be me. I think the odds are stacked in your favor."
"Alright, if we miss a question, instead of taking just a drink of firewhiskey, we'll take a whole shot. How about that?
"I'm still not sure about this. How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?" asked Hermione. She did not trust Slytherins. At all. And Goyle had already tricked her once with the whole kissing thing. She wasn't kissing them and getting naked. That was just stupid.
"I told you she'd be too scared, Goyle. Bloody Gryffindors and their so-called bravery. They're not so fucking brave when Slytherins are around, are they? She might act like a know-it-all bitch with her hand stuck up in the air all of the time, but she knows a dirty mudblood like her could never win against purebloods like us," said Crabbe maliciously.
Hermione was fuming. He just called her a mudblood, that stupid prick. And Gryffindors were too brave. In fact, she could feel the Gryffindor bravery about to get her into trouble right about now. "I'll play your stupid little game, you stupid fuck, and I'm going to kick your ass," said Hermione leaning across the table and pointing her finger into Crabbe's rock-like shoulder.
Crabbe grinned over at Goyle. "You were right. That was easy. For the so called smartest witch of our year, she sure is a sucker,"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, Hermione Granger would be shooting Avada Kedavras at Crabbe and Goyle right out of her eyeballs for that Slytherin shit they had just pulled. Those fucking bastards. Those fucking Slytherin bastards. Outsmarted by Crabbe and Goyle. Unfuckingbelievable. "Shut up Crabbe. I'm still going to kick your sorry Slytherin ass."
"Bring it, baby," taunted Crabbe.
"You are so going down," replied Hermione and then for emphasis, she took a big gulp of firewhiskey. She looked pretty tough for all about two seconds before she immediately started choking on it. Crabbe started laughing uproariously at the sight of her choking, and Goyle started pounding her hard on the back. Between the firewhiskey and Goyle, she wasn't sure which would kill her first. Firewhisky was absolutely horrid. She had no idea why people drank the stuff. Her throat was on fire, and she was getting so warm, she felt slightly dizzy. So, she did the only sensible thing she could think of. She took off her jumper.
"You know," said Goyle. "You can ask us a question first. Not that we don't like your way of playing. It does move things along." Then he pointed his wand at her jumper and said, "Evanesco".
Hermione stared in horror as her jumper vanished. "What the hell was that for?"
"Once it's off, it stays off."
Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. They hadn't even started playing, and she already sucked at this game. Whatever. She hated that stupid jumper anyway, and it wasn't like she would be losing any more clothes. "Okay, first question. When brewing a Draught of Living Death potion, what colors should the potion turn after the halfway stage?
"Ha!" yelled Crabbe. "Purple, then clear. In your face, Granger!"
"Ooh, sorry Crabbe. The correct answer would be blackcurrant, lilac and then clear. Better luck next time, sucker," said Hermione smiling sweetly.
"That's the same fucking thing, and you know it, you bitch," exclaimed Crabbe angrily. He wanted to see some clothing tossed.
Sorry, I can't accept half ass answers. Goyle said the new potion's teacher is a total prick. I'm sure he wouldn't accept half ass answers either. I'm only trying to do you a favor. So, drink the fuck up and tell me. Is Malfoy a Death Eater?"
"Don't know," shrugged Goyle taking a drink in one gulp.
Hermione waited for Goyle to elaborate. He did not. "I agreed to play strip studying for that crap answer?"
"Like you would have agreed, if we hadn't tricked you," sneered Crabbe.
"Go to hell, Crabbe. What is Felix Felicis?"
Goyle answered this question. "It's a good luck potion. So, what's it going to be, Granger? Shirt or pants?"
"Sock," said Hermione bitterly, throwing it in his face.
"Drink," said Goyle.
Hermione took as little a sip as possible and made a face. It was so horrible; she could barely drink it. "There."
"I said drink, not wear it as lip-gloss."
Hermione glared at Goyle. Crabbe laughed and lifted his glass in salute and drank with her. He obviously didn't care whether it was his turn to drink or not, but Hermione immediately started choking again. She hated firewhiskey, as well as the two doofuses that were forcing her to consume the vile drink. Would they really put her in Azkaban, if she killed Crabbe and Goyle?
When Hermione recovered, she asked, "Why is it important not to drink too much of a Felix Felicis potion?"
Goyle answered again. "Too much will make you reckless and dangerous. Too much will kill you." Goyle pointed his wand at Hermione's other sock and said, "Evanesco. Drink."
Hermione scowled but then drank and only coughed a little bit this time. She was feeling extremely warm and unconsciously unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. Goyle glanced down at it, but Crabbe didn't seem to even notice.
"I wish I would have won that Felix Felicis from Slughorn's class," said Crabbe bitterly. "Unlike Potter, I would have known what to do if I got lucky."
"I'm glad you didn't," muttered Hermione thinking she and her friends probably would have died in that skirmish with the Death Eaters without the Felix Felicis Harry had given them. And she really didn't want to think about Crabbe getting "lucky" either. Gross.
"Fucking Potter always wins everything. Like he doesn't have enough luck as it is," sulked Crabbe.
"Yeah, it's real lucky having Voldemort trying to kill you everyday of your life," retorted Hermione. She noticed that neither Crabbe nor Goyle flinched at the sound of his name, but they did give each other a look. Interesting.
"I was talking about Quidditch," mumbled Crabbe.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Is that all boys ever thought about? Then Hermione blushed when she thought about what kind of game they were playing. Well, maybe they had one other thing on their minds. "What is a bezoar?"
Crabbe and Goyle both started looking through their notes. Ha! She had stumped them this time, but then Goyle found something and said, "A bezoar is a stone from a goat's stomach."
Hermione couldn't keep the grin off of her face. They did have crap notes. "Wrong!" she practically sang. "A bezoar is actually a hairball in the goat's stomach that only looks like a kidney-like stone. Drink! So, are you two thugs Death Eaters?" Hermione figured she might want to know this information since it seemed she would be spending the whole evening with them, possibly drunk.
"We agreed to answer questions about Malfoy, not us," said Goyle.
"No, actually you agreed to answer truthfully to any question that I asked. And now I'm asking if you two are Death Eaters."
"No," they both replied, not very happy that Hermione could ask them personal questions. It was one thing to tell her things about Malfoy, quite another to have to tell her things about themselves.
"Are you planning on becoming Death Eaters?"
"Too many questions," said Goyle.
"Humph! What is Amortentia?"
"The most powerful love potion in the world. Drink," answered Goyle before Crabbe could get his answer out.
She grudgingly took a drink. Hermione was not happy. Goyle was getting too many questions right. She hadn't gotten any good questions about Malfoy answered yet, and she was starting to feel woozy. And she had run out of socks.
"Want me to choose?" asked Crabbe smiling lasciviously at her.
"No. I can do it myself," huffed Hermione. She couldn't decide if she should take off her shirt or her pants. She wanted to take off her pants since her legs were under the table anyway, and she still had her skirt on, but she wasn't sure how to take them off without giving Goyle too much of a peep show, as he was sitting right next to her. She slid down in the booth; so that most of her body was under the table and carefully wriggled down her pants. Goyle was watching her closely clearly amused at her efforts. This was so embarrassing.
Then Crabbe poked his head under the table and said, "Hey, while you're under there, can you give me a…"
"No!" said Hermione getting up so quickly that she banged her head on the table and nearly sat in Goyle's lap.
"Here, let me help you," said Goyle as he quickly used his wand to vanish the pants hanging around her ankles.
"Gee, thanks Goyle. I might even call you a gentleman if it weren't for the fact that you were taking off my fucking clothes." Hermione was getting a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol she was consuming or if it had something to do with the fact that Goyle was undressing her. She cleared her throat and asked, "What does Amortentia smell like?"
Goyle looked over at Crabbe and nodded for him to answer. Crabbe said. "It smells like turkey with gravy, roast beef and pork chops…
"Amortentia smells like meat to you?" interrupted Hermione slightly fascinated and disgusted at the same time.
"And cake," said Crabbe.
"Crabbe you are such a freak. Unfortunately, I cannot accept your brilliantly fucked up answer, as it does not smell like meat and cake to everyone or anyone normal for that matter. The correct answer would be that Amortentia smells different to different people according to what attracts them. Obviously, you are attracted to meat."
"And cake," added Goyle.
"Oh, and what does it smell like to you, Granger? Weasel?" sneered Crabbe. "And I already know what it smells like to you Goyle, so you can shut the fuck up."
Hermione didn't like the weasel crack. She didn't want to go there. "Drink up loser. And you too Goyle." She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't lumped Goyle into the loser category as well, but in all fairness he had gotten a couple of questions right. She wondered what Amortentia smelled like to Goyle, but she asked, "What does Malfoy do over the summer months when he's not in school?"
"His parents throw these really boring parties that we have to go to too. They're afraid he won't pick a wife that's a pureblood. So, basically they're kind of like blind dates. Malfoy hates them. Who the fuck wants your parents picking out your future wife? Most of the summer, we hang out in Diagon Alley and have a bit of fun with the younger kids. Scare them a little bit. Let them know whose going to be running things when they get to Hogwarts. When he's on his own, Malfoy listens to muggle music. His Dad would freak, if he found out."
Crabbe sure got really chatty the more he drank. "How long does one dose of Polyjuice Potion last?"
"An hour," they both said in unison.
Shit! Of course they knew that. They took the fucking potion all last year. Hermione started to panic. Her heart was racing. She was running out of clothes to take off. Well, ones that she was willing to take off anyway. This was starting to get embarrassing. She didn't want either of them deciding for her though, so she quickly took off a shoe and threw it at Crabbe, clunking him in the head.
"Ow, you bitch. That hurt. And shoes do not count," said Crabbe rubbing his forehead.
"That's arguable," replied Hermione.
Goyle rolled his eyes at the two of them and pointed his wand at Hermione. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst, but was surprised when she felt her other shoe vanish. "We'll compromise," he stated. Hermione was so relieved; she took a big gulp of firewhiskey without even being told. It wasn't really so bad once you got used to it. She felt kind of fuzzy.
"How long does Veritaserum take to mature?" Hermione looked at their faces and was pleased to see their blank expressions. That was the Crabbe and Goyle she knew and loved. Scratch that. That was the Crabbe and Goyle she was slightly acquainted with and did not like. At all. Not even a little bit. God, she had only had a few drinks, and she was already getting loopy.
Crabbe decided to venture a guess. "An hour?"
"Way the fuck off, Crabbe. It takes a full moon-cycle. Drink up boys and then tell me Malfoy's biggest secret." This game was kind of fun. When she was winning that is.
Crabbe and Goyle both took a drink, but it was Goyle that answered the question. "He doesn't exactly share the same views as his father."
Hermione wished Crabbe had answered the question. Goyle hardly gave any information at all. "And what views are those?"
"Too many questions. You can risk another piece of clothing, but I think you can answer it for yourself," replied Goyle.
Hermione thought about it. He must mean his views on muggles and muggleborns, but what did he mean by "exactly"? And if Malfoy didn't hate muggles and muggleborns like his father, then why did he hate her so much? She had never done anything to him. Well, she did punch him in the face in third year, but he deserved that. Hermione had too many questions she wanted to ask and not enough clothing left. She should have asked about his biggest secret first. Finding out what he did in the summer sounded rather stupid now.
"What color steam is released by a correctly brewed Draught of Living Death?"
"Blue," said Goyle.
"Off with the shirt, bitch," said Crabbe gleefully taking yet another drink.
"Fuck off, Crabbe."
"I might. Let's see what you've got," smirked Crabbe.
Hermione glared, but started slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She half expected Goyle to vanish it for her, but he just watched her undo button after button. Crabbe was of course being a complete ass, but it was Goyle that was making her nervous. She felt like she had crazy drunk ass butterflies flying while intoxicated in her stomach. Why didn't he just vanish it already?
"Hurry up, Granger. We don't have all fucking night," Crabbe said impatiently.
"Don't let me keep you," said Hermione dryly finally sliding the shirt off her shoulders.
"Geez Granger. You have another fucking shirt on," said Crabbe disappointed. He took another drink, got a funny smile on his face and then went face first into his plate of food. His head immediately sprang back up and he said, "I'm okay. What did I miss?"
Hermione started giggling. "You have a chip stuck on your forehead." She watched him pick off the chip and pop it in his mouth like nothing happened. Hermione then took her drink. Firewhiskey really wasn't so bad after all. It was kind of growing on her. Well, she was no longer choking on it at least.
"How do you prepare the sopophorus beans for a Draught of Living Death potion?"
"Chop it," said Goyle giving her a knowing look and raising his eyebrows as if waiting for her to do something.
"Is he right?" asked Crabbe. "I bet you don't have anther fucking shirt on under that."
"You know," said Hermione stalling for time. "It's more effective if you crush it with the flat side of a silver dagger. You get more juice that way." Before they left school, Hermione had snuck into the Room of Requirement and taken Harry's potion book that had belonged to Snape. She had read it cover to cover and had learned some really amazing things. She still hadn't told Harry about it. He was going to give her a lot of shit about it since she had been so against him using the book last year.
"I told you we weren't interested in your extracurricular reading," said Goyle.
"I know, but I bet it would impress that prick of a potions professor," said Hermione.
"Maybe, but you still have to take something off and take a drink," said Goyle.
Hermione was in panic mode. She was down to a shirt, a skirt and her underclothes. How did she let it get this far? And she still hadn't really gotten all that much information on Malfoy. Those two fuckers weren't as stupid as they looked. She still had to get home, so she really didn't want to take off her shirt or skirt because it did not seem like Goyle was giving anything back. So, it had to be either her bra or knickers. She decided on her bra because it didn't seem like a good idea to take off her knickers around Goyle. Or Crabbe. Why had she forgotten about Crabbe? So, Hermione carefully maneuvered herself to pull her bra out of her sleeve without Crabbe or Goyle getting a peek at anything.
"What the fuck? I didn't get to see anything!" complained Crabbe grabbing her bra away from her. He was holding it up to himself trying to figure out how she had taken it off without removing her shirt. Crabbe was now completely drunk off his ass. Goyle seemed to notice it to.
She watched Crabbe trying to put on her bra and couldn't help giggling. He was definitely an idiot, but he wasn't really so disgusting now that she really thought about it. He was just, well Crabbe. Then she looked over at Goyle who was sitting much closer to her than she had remembered. And Goyle was, well… Oh my God. Goyle was… attractive in that strong silent type kind of way. Shit! She found Goyle attractive? Fuck! She was so fucking drunk. She was totally completely drunk off her fucking ass. She picked up her whole glass of firewhiskey and downed it in one gulp. It immediately filled back up. Great, self-filling cups. She was so fucked. And distracted, or she wouldn't have asked the question she did. "How do you prepare the boomslang skin in a Polyjuice Potion?" Shit! Why the fuck had she asked another Polyjuice Question?
"Goyle answered, "Chop it."
"Goyle, you fucker. You missed that on purpose. It's shredded. It's fucking shredded, and you know it."
Goyle just shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, the correct answer is shredded," said Hermione smiling widely completely ignoring Crabbe.
"I knew it was shredded," grumbled Crabbe.
"Sure you did, dumb ass," said Hermione. "Why does Malfoy hate me if it's not because I am a muggleborn?"
"Why else? Because you're a stuck up know-it-all bitch with a stick up your ass," said Crabbe.
"Shut up, Crabbe. You're just mad because you suck."
"Well, how about you? Do you suck, Granger?"
"I suck at this game."
"Yeah, you really do."
"Fuck you, Crabbe."
"Back at you, Granger."
"Isn't somebody supposed to drink or something?"
"I think it's your turn."
"Okay."
"Sucker!"
"Crabbe, you fucker!"
"Hey, drunk and drunker. Are we still playing or what?" asked Goyle.
"We're not playing until, Crabbe takes his drink," huffed Hermione.
"Take the fucking drink, Crabbe," said Goyle.
"You're the one who fucked it up," said Crabbe glaring at him.
"I drank on all of the ones you fucked up," returned Goyle.
"Yeah, but you did it on purpose. You're a selfish ass. We're just getting to the good stuff, and you know it."
"What? Can't handle another drink, Crabbe?" asked Goyle smirking a bit.
"You shit!" said Crabbe glaring at Goyle and then slamming back his drink. Hermione watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and then he completely keeled over to the side, falling right out of his seat.
Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she looked at Crabbe passed out on the floor. She then looked over at Goyle and whispered, "What the fuck?"
Goyle was still smirking. "One down."
Oh my god. Goyle had just taken his best friend out of the game. It was just him and Hermione now. She had a feeling she should quit playing while she still had a little dignity left, but she had one question she was dying to ask Goyle. "What color is the Felix Felicis potion?"
"Gold."
"Sorry, Goyle. The correct answer is the color of molten gold. That slight distinction in the variation of color is most significant to a successful potion, so therefore I cannot give it to you."
"I see. What's your question?" asked Goyle taking a drink.
"What does Amortentia smell like to you?" asked Hermione quietly.
Hermione thought she saw the corners of his mouth go up as he looked into her eyes and answered, "vanilla."
Hermione caught her breath and asked, "Why?"
Goyle leaned in so close she felt sure he would kiss her. She closed her eyes and then heard him say softly in her ear, "Too many questions."
Hermione only had one rational thought left in her head, but her mind and body did not seem to want to listen. So, she asked Goyle another question. "What color is the Polyjuice Potion?"
Goyle smiled. "A murky brown."
Hermione took a drink. She couldn't believe she had just done that. She was so nervous. She stood up and tried to bring up enough courage to do what she had to do, but then she looked at Goyle. "I can't do it. Just use your wand."
Goyle stood up in front of her and pointed his wand at her. Hermione closed her eyes and prepared herself for the soft woosh of the Evanesco spell. However, her eyes snapped open as she felt the tip of his wand slowly trail up her leg. She silently watched as he lifted her skirt up using only his wand, hooked it into the top of her knickers and then slowly started pulling them down. Hermione could only stand and stare as Goyle worked his magic on her. When he had her knickers completely off of her, he stuffed them into his pocket and said, "I know you're asking all of these questions about Malfoy for a reason. I suspect you got stuck with him, and you'll be playing house with him this summer. Despite what Crabbe said, Malfoy does not hate you. In fact, he probably has a thing for you and when Malfoy wants something, he gets it. He can be an ass at times and he's very competitive and has a temper, but he can be charming. He's a lot like you really. You two will make quite a pair."
"Malfoy and I will never be a pair."
"I'd be willing to make a bet on that. You and Malfoy will hook up sooner or later. Of course, it will be satisfying to know that I got there first." And before she knew it, Goyle's mouth was covering hers and capturing her in a passionate kiss that made her melt into his strong arms. She felt warm and safe in his embrace yet at the same time felt the need to do something completely reckless. And she did. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him back so feverishly that he had to come up for air. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked breathing heavily and looking deep into her eyes.
"Too many questions," she replied breathlessly and pulled him back into the kiss. With her wrapped around him, he stepped over Crabbe and laid her gently down on the table and then proceeded to snog her senseless. Goyle pushed all thought and reason right out of her head. She was living for the moment, and it was one hell of a moment. She was feeling things in places that would have made her blush had she been capable of thinking about it. Goyle knew exactly what to do. Oh my God. She was totally snogging Goyle, and he was fucking fantastic! She could feel her body trembling under his touch. In fact, she was completely shaking all over.
She opened her eyes to find Malfoy sitting on top of her shaking her by her shoulders. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Malfoy? Get off of me!" Now was not the time to have Malfoy on top of her, not that there was a good time for that, but she could still feel herself slightly trembling.
Malfoy didn't move though. He looked really angry. "You were fucking dreaming about him, weren't you? You were dreaming about fucking Goyle."
"I don't know what you're talking about Malfoy. I was dreaming about studying." That was totally true.
"Oh really? And does studying usually give you an orgasm?"
"Sometimes."
