Note! If you have died from waiting for the romance to begin, then you can go and resurrect yourself because the romance starts here. Whiiiiii!!!

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own any particular chaos either at the moment, except for the one on my table.

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The Founding of Pigwarts II – Cooking Chaos

Chapter 7: Daphne's Plan

Ginny was starting to regret her decision of choosing Daphne as her victim… erm… accomplice. Not that she wasn't competent enough; in fact she was far too good with these things, so good that she started to leave Ginny in her shadow.

And that was what she did not like - she had to be the star of the show, the Master Chaos Maker, not the second in command. It had been her idea, after all, and she refused to become just a sidekick.

What she disliked most about Daphne and their current situation, was the girl keeping secrets. And far too many of them. When Ginny got a devious idea, she told her about it so that they could point a finger and laugh together evilly. When Daphne got an idea, she smirked and told Ginny to leave it all to her.

Like now, when she had owled her with a couple of lines stating she had a plan, and that her part in it was to get Hermione drunk.

So that's why Ginny was currently brooding in a bar, two glasses of tequila with tonic in front of her, waiting for her friend to show up. Hermione usually didn't drink alcohol when they were out together, but she didn't seem to mind when Ginny ordered it for her (she usually did it to get her drunk and spill all her secrets concerning men and dating; it hadn't worked, though).

"Hey," Hermione greeted her, taking a seat across from her.

"Hiya, girlfriend," Ginny spoke cheerfully.

"Everything fine with you, Gin?"

"Brilliant. You?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she answered and took a careful sip of her drink. "Trying to get me drunk again?"

"Now why would I want to do that?" Ginny made an angel face. "I just wanted to have a bit of chat with you - how you have been, what you have done…"

"Who I have dated?"

"Your words, not mine," Ginny remarked.

Hermione sighed.

"I did have a date, actually."

"Who? When? Where did you go? What did you do? How was it? Was he a good kisser? Did you like it? Are you going out again?"

Hermione, who was accustomed to such streams of questions, didn't even roll her eyes.

"Michael, a colleague. Last Saturday. Went to a Greek restaurant first and then to that new club in Hogsmeade - Red Ribbons. It was quite nice, I suppose. I don't know if we'll go out again.. probably not."

"Why not? And was he a good kisser?"

"He was nice, and attractive, and charming, and everything, but… not…"

"What?" Ginny inquired with a mischievous smile.

"If you want the truth," Hermione sighed and Ginny nodded fervently. "Then it was too simple… too easy… no depth, no mystery, nothing like that. You think I'm crazy now, don't you? Trying to make my life harder than it could be."

"Not at all. You just like your men complicated. And I'm sure you will find one intricate enough sooner or later." Like later tonight, she added in mind.

Hermione graced her friend with a brilliant though a bit doubtful smile and turned the conversation to wedding-talk. Ginny let her get away with it this time.

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Two drinks later, when Hermione was getting chirpy and joined Ginny in checking out all the men in the bar, a small envelope appeared on their table in a puff of green smoke.

"What's this?" Hermione pointed.

Ginny looked at the envelope. Its green and silver colours spoke volumes to her about its origin, and she would have almost grabbed it had she not noticed something just in time.

"It's for you," she said with a smile.

Hermione eyed her carefully. By the look of it, the redhead angel was up to something. Probably something about going wild again. She was to turn the offer down, but her stupid curiosity simply could not leave her be.

"Oh, all righty then," she said and picked the said envelope up.

Ginny stared at the empty place where her friend had been just a moment ago, wondering whether she should worry and call the Aurors or something, or this was meant to happen in the first place. Her musings were ended by a beaming Daphne, who fell down to Hermione's seat, grinned from ear to ear, and ordered herself a drink.

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Hermione's world was spinning. This was not too unusual, but she couldn't remember having drunk that much. The second thing she ordered had been a mineral water, after all.

But then the world stopped spinning and she found herself in front of a door. It was a rather massive door, dark brown, and bore a sign saying 'Open me. Pretty please'.

Dark Wizards had never left that kind of signs when trying to lure good people into traps. Perhaps that was their doom. After all, such a sign was way too suspicious to be suspicious at all. Still, Hermione drew her wand out before entering.

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Draco Malfoy was plotting murder. Perhaps Voldemort had been right – think in allies, not in friends. Because there was a particular friend Draco would have loved to practice some neck-wringing and dark curses on. He should have realized that when a Slytherin claims to want to apologize, there is no such thing as too much precaution. But he had got careless, and now he was here. Damn that woman could hold grudges, and almost for fifteen years. Not that he wouldn't have done the same in her place, but he would have done it sooner, not having the patience to wait this long.

But she had managed to surprise him after almost two decades of knowing each other. Well, at least their relationship was not boring. But then again, no place with Dolly could ever be boring, like she had proved him once again at his high-class birthday party.

Draco growled. It didn't help his situation, but it was better than nothing. Oh well, sooner or later someone would find him. Hopefully sooner. The chains weren't that comfortable. Of course, it wasn't their role to be comfortable; after all, if you put someone in chains you usually don't want them to be comfortable, quite the opposite. But now he was seriously considering renewing this part of the house a bit as well. With some cushions, and armchairs, and perhaps even a fireplace somewhere. And certainly do something with the chains.

And a carpet would not hurt either. And… wait a second, was that the door?

Draco listened. It had sounded like the door. And now it sounded like someone carefully coming down the stairs.

He already opened his mouth to call out for her stupid friend – "Didn't have the guts to keep me here any longer? I'm disappointed in you, Dolly." – but decided against it in case she would change her mind then and leave him here to rot.

"Ginny?" a voice called out. "Is this your doing?"

He knew that voice. He simply could not place it yet. Oh, well, he would see its owner any moment now when they would reach the end of the stairs. It would probably be a bit embarrassing, since it wasn't Dolly, but sure he could be suave enough to make it seem like there was nothing extraordinary about the situation.

Wait. Did the voice just call out for Ginny? Like Ginevra Weasley? Oh no! He wasn't very fond of that turn of events. No person who called the little Weaslette Ginny was overly welcomed in his Manor. Except Potter during that stupid birthday party, but then all the blame went to his secretary… correction – his ex-secretary.

He started to make a mental list of all such people. There was Potter, of course, and then Weasley, and then… oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!

Damn.

Hermione had finally made it all the way downstairs, into a small damp room lit by a couple of torches along the wall. But there was also something else along the wall, something she couldn't not notice.

For a moment she thought she was seeing things, but when the vision did not disappear but continued to glare at her, she decided to go with the flow once again. She would have to thank Ginny later for ordering her that tequila – there were some things in the world she would rather not face when sober.

And a Draco Malfoy chained to a dungeon wall happened to be one of these things.

At the same time the said Draco Malfoy was thinking fast. He was good at it, usually. But being chained to a dungeon wall and facing the girl who he had hated and tormented for six years until one drunken night when he had kissed and cuddled with her, could not by any standards be called usual. Yet he was doing his best in fast thinking.

She hasn't changed much, he thought. But there was some new confidence about her, a new feeling of self-awareness, a new sense of maturity, something that made her seem bold and determined as well as sweet and pretty.

Pretty? Phew. Of course not pretty. Beautiful. Especially in this mild light which made her skin glow and gave an unearthly gleam to her hair.

Hmm, that fast thinking wasn't that hard at all, he realized.

Damn he was looking good. Must be the alcohol in her blood. Or the stupid torches. Or the stupid chains. Hermione wondered how many people could manage to look good while chained to a dungeon wall, but Malfoy had certainly succeeded in that. He had the look, the aura of a caged beast around him, still and wary at the moment, but should she get too close… Hermione gave a mental shudder and quickly shook that thought away before she would find it impossible to stay cool.

Stay cool. There was Malfoy, who had hated and tormented her for six years until one drunken night when other things had happened (things that made her blush and sent not at all the bad kind of shivers through her body), chained to a dungeon wall. He was helpless, or at least as helpless as a caged tiger could ever be.

Well, at least he wasn't smirking.

Hermione took it as her clue to do exactly that. Even though her smirk was less like a smirk and more like a devilish grin. Well, at least it managed to make Malfoy look a bit apprehensive, and that was the main thing.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A Granger in the dungeons," he said in his obnoxious tone, which shook a bit more than he would have liked.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she repeated his sentence. "A Ferret chained to a dungeon wall."

All right. So perhaps his opening sentence hadn't been the best.

"My house, my dungeons," he shrugged.

"Of course. It's your liberty to chain yourself to your wall every time you feel like it."

"Of course," he scoffed. "Just thought to test whether the chains still hold. In case I might need them. And seeing you here, it seems I do."

"And do they?" she asked, not one bit frightened. Perhaps because she still had her wand, and he was chained to a wall.

"Do they what?"

"Do the chains hold?"

Draco struggled a bit against the chains keeping him firmly in place.

"Yes, they do," he replied darkly.

Hermione's devilish grin became even more devilish as she pointed her wand at him.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you," he warned her. He really had to congratulate himself for suppressing his first reaction to her wand movement which was something like "No! Don't do it! Please!"

"Of course you would," she grinned and said her spell. Draco prepared himself for whichever blow was to come. The chains glowed green for a moment, then the light disappeared and everything was the way it had been before.

For Draco at least, who wasn't able to read the silver letters now visible above his head.

Hello, Hermione! they said. I hope you will appreciate my little gift for you. A cute little ferret chained to a dungeon wall – what better can a girl wish for. I'd say he doesn't bite, but that would be a lie. For further fun, however, you'll find the instructions on the table to your left. Enjoy!

The writing faded the moment she had finished reading, but she had already turned away and stepped to the said table in the corner of the room.

"What did you do?" Draco demanded. "What was that spell?"

"Oh, that was nothing," she replied absent-mindedly, picking up another green and silver envelope from the table, and finding a letter in it. "Just testing the chains. You were right – they do hold."

Silence overtook the room as Draco glared at her and Hermione read the letter. But after she had burst out laughing for the seventh time already, he could not keep himself back any longer.

"What does it say, Granger?"

She turned around, the same highly dangerous smile on her face (the one Harry and Ron knew as the run-for-your-life smile).

"Let's play a game," she said. "It's called – Cookie Torture the Ferret."

Daphne was going to pay for this.

End Note: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHAAAAA!!!

If you got a bit confused about Hermione's spell, then it was one merely checking whether the chains really held Draco in place, or whether it was just some trick of his. Daphne's message, however, was cast to be revealed under any magic.

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