THE TENDER TRAP
Summary: It was only supposed to be a bet, a game, just meant for someone to walk away with the prize. Hearts weren't supposed to go spiraling out of control. But no one told Draco and Hermione that.
Pairing: Hermione/Draco, Ginny/Blaise Zabini
***
"Good God, Hermione, don't you have any seductive clothing?" Parvati Patil's muffled yell came from deep inside Hermione's trunk.
It was Saturday afternoon, and the seventh year Gryffindor girl's dormitory was buzzing. Ginny had convinced Hermione she needed to 'freshen up a little.' "Not that you look bad or anything," Ginny had hastily amended. "It's just that your look is kinda—"
"Just say it, Ginny," Hermione had said, flopping back on the bed. "My look is kind of frumpy? Pathetic? Screams, 'I'm going to end up a spinster?" So Ginny had gotten Hermione to agree to a makeover; then, deciding she would need some help, got Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Parvati's twin from Ravenclaw Padma to assist her.
Right now, they were in the earliest stages of their Operation Transfiguration. Parvati was riffling through Hermione's clothing, Padma and Lavender were trying to decide what colors would look best on Hermione's face, and Ginny was studying her hair. Hermione was sitting on the bed looking and feeling thoroughly miserable.
I must need a lot of work, she thought glumly. This is really, really pathetic. In truth, she had never really bothered with her appearance, because prior to this bet, there wasn't anyone she felt she needed to strive to impress. Besides, she would have much rather spent an hour reading than doing her makeup, unlike Lavender and Parvati, who woke up faithfully at six every morning to get ready for class at eight thirty.
"Okay," Ginny said, getting off of Hermione's bed and circling her to the front. She stood in a military-like stance, arms behind her back and feet apart. "Let's divide up—Parv, you help me on hair—"
Parvati got a kind of manic gleam in her eyes as she eyed Hermione's hair. Hermione bit back a whimper of fear.
"And Padma and Lavender, you'll do makeup, okay?" Ginny continued. Hermione let out a small moan. Ginny turned. "Not a lot of makeup, okay?" she said sympathetically. "Just something to illuminate your eyes." Ginny turned back to her faithful workers. "Alright girls. Let's move in."
***
A small group of Slytherin boys grouped around Draco and Blaise in the Quidditch Pitch stands on Saturday afternoon.
"Okay, men," Blaise said from his position on the highest seat. "You all know that Malfoy here's got a little…assignment on hand. But be warned that it's SECRET. No word of this bet can get out."
Blaise had gathered the group of Draco's closest Slytherin comrades, and told them of Draco's plight after Draco had brought up a new problem: He knew not one thing about making someone fall in love. This had been a definite problem—Draco's "affections" needed to look 100% authentic when he got out there to woo Granger.
So Blaise had gotten together Theodore Nott, Malcolm Baddock, Graham Pritchard, and Tahmores Bleacou (a Beauxbatons transfer student) for a "seminar on acting and charming women."
"Anyway," Blaise continued, business-like. "Draco has brought a fair point to my attention. 'Blaise,' he says to me, 'I've got no bloody idea on how to make a girl fall for me.'" A snort of laughter went through the group—these words, while being what Draco said, were not entirely true. The whole of the Hogwarts female population "fell for" Draco.
Ah, but it wasn't in the way that he needed for his task. The girls all fell for his looks, and Draco was pretty sure that was not going to get Granger to fall in love with him. She'll probably want intelligence and loads of personality and good intentions and all that bull, Draco thought ruefully, running a hand through his hair.
"So, I think some lessons are in order!" Blaise said, standing. "First, we need to teach Malfoy the difference between love and lust, gentlemen!" This statement was met with some rather blank looks. Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Come on, mates. Lust wears off after a while, you have to be careful of that one," Blaise said, sounding as if he were discussing a Quidditch play. "But you can't push anything on them that they don't want." A few snickers were heard. Draco rolled his eyes, following Blaise's lead. He could tell this was not going to be a basket of roses.
"Sometimes," Blaise went on, "you let her make the forst move. The chicks love this. But don't freeze up either. So my first piece of advice is: abstain." Blaise drew out his wand and traced the letters into the air, where they stood glowing for a moment. "Understand? It's a test of willpower. No sex."
This was met with open-mouthed stares.
"No…nothing?" Theodore Nott asked, skeptically. "Sounds a bit dodgy to me mate. How can they even tell you're interested?"
Blaise sighed, but Draco leaned forward. This was all very useful information…
"I didn't say no physical contact, Nott, just no sex. You see, it'll make her think you're thinking about other things. Just trust me, okay?" he said frustrated.
This is way too confusing for me, Draco thought, head in hands.
***
"What about blue eye shadow, Lav?" Padma asked, on end of the makeup brush in her mouth as she studied Hermione. "Y'think?"
"BLUE?" Hermione shrieked, horrified, her eyes flying open. She turned to Ginny pleadingly. "Ginny, you said it would be okay, you promised!" she cried.
Ginny sighed. "X-nay on the blue, Padma. Try something lighter."
I can't believe I gave into this. This is nothing short of torture, Hermione thought, as one of the girls pulled her hair.
***
Blaise Zabini began to pace the stands. They had been at the lecture for nearly an hour now, and Blaise had gone through all his father's pointers on how to get women.
"So, it comes down to this last, crucial, très important point," Blaise said, hands behind his back in a commander-like fashion. Draco looked up, brow furrowed. Blaise's points, while somewhat obvious, had pointed out a lot for him—the fact, for one, that he was not going to get Hermione Granger on his mere look alone.
Which was what he had been counting on.
Hey, it had worked for all those other girls, hadn't it?
"And this point is?" sandy-haired Graham Pritchard asked, in a bored tone. Blaise smirked and pointed his wand at his throat.
"Canzone forte," Blaise muttered, and he cleared his throat again. "This, gentlemen," he said in a voice that echoed around the pitch, "is my last piece of advice. The girls today in society go for classical poetry,"
Murmurs broke out in the small group as Blaise's singing filled the Pitch. Draco gaped at his friend in horror; had Blaise gone mad? Blaise was singing!
"The girls today in society
Go for classical poetry;
So to win their hearts one must quote with ease
Aeschylus and Euripides.
But the poet of them all
Who will start 'em simply ravin'
Is the poet people call
The bard of Stratford-on-Avon" Blaise sang with great gusto. He stood and
practically bellowed (quite melodically):
"Brush up your Shakespeare,
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare
And the women you will wow!"
"No way," Tahmores Bleacou muttered. The others were looking very interested
now. Draco took in every word of Blaise's interesting tune.
"Just declaim a few lines from "Othella"
And they think you're a heckuva fella.
If your blonde won't respond when you flatter 'er
Tell her what Tony told Cleopaterer,
And if still, to be shocked, she pretends well,
Just remind her that "All's Well That Ends Well."
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kowtow!"
Blaise motioned for the boys to stand up. Draco remained seated, standing back as they copied Blaise's every move as he wove in between the bleachers.
"Brush up your Shakespeare,
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare
and the women you will wow.
If your goil is a Washington Heights dream
treat the kid to "A Midsummer Night Dream."
If she fights when her clothes you are mussing,
What are clothes? "Much Ado About Nussing.""
"You see, men? This is how simple it is!" Zabini cried, leaping from one bleacher to the next until he was standing at the very top. Graham, Tahmores, Malcolm, and Theodore gathered on the step below them. Draco stood numbly at his spot, watching, half-fascinated, half-horrified, as the entire group burst into song:
"Brush up your Shakespeare,
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare
And the women you will wow!"
The five linked arms comrade-like, looked at each other, and then looked down at Draco, before singing loudly:
"Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kowtow!"
They ended, kneeling, in front of one stunned Draco Malfoy. For three seconds they held the pose before breaking it off, shaking their heads somewhat nonchalantly.
"Did you catch that, Malfoy?" Blaise asked, flicking non-existent dust off of his robes. Draco was slack-jawed.
"What have you been taking?" Draco finally managed to spit out, his blue eyes wide with horror. "Are you under the Imperius or something?" He looked wildly around from Theodore to Graham to Blaise.
The whole world's gone crazy in five minutes. I'm supposed to be moony-eyed over some Mudblood chick and Blaise Zabini just burst into song.
***
"Okay, Hermione, are you ready?" Ginny whispered excitedly.
Hermione was seated, eyes tightly shut, in front of her mirror. Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, and Padma were gathered around her. Two very excruciatingly painful hours after their Makeover Madness had begun, the task was finished.
I don't want to look, Hermione thought. I can't do it.
"Hermione! Just open your eyes already!" Lavender whined, stamping a foot impatiently. Hermione squeezed them shut even tighter, before slowly peeling them open, taking a deep breath.
Her eyes fully opened, she peeped in the mirror.
"What do you think, Mione?" Ginny asked, gushing at the girl's handiwork.
Hermione stared, open-mouthed, at her reflection, absolutely speechless for nearly a full minute, Once she had regained her tongue, she said, "I look like a prostitute."
That was the only way she could think to sum up her "new look." The girls had really over-done it: dark blue eye shadow went from her eyelashes to the crease of her eyelid. Blue eyeliner enclosed her eyes, making her look as though she'd been punched. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips had been literally caked with pinkish-red lipstick. Her hair had been teased into some sort of monstrosity, and her uniform was several inches short in the skirt.
"Oh Merlin, I look like a bloody prostitute!" Hermione cried, turning angrily in her chair to face the group of girls.
Lavender laughed nervously. Padma looked worriedly at her twin, but Ginny said coaxingly, "You do not, Hermione. You're just not used to seeing yourself with so much makeup on."
"For a good reason!" she hissed, turning, horrified, back to her reflection. "I can barely even move with all this stuff on my face. I thought you said you'd make me look normal, Virginia."
She could see Ginny wince; the only time Hermione ever called her by her full name was when she was really angry. Now she was fuming. "Oh come on, Hermione," Lavender said timidly, "it doesn't look horrible."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If I was going to a costume party, maybe," she said. "Not for seducing Draco Malfoy, which, by the way Ginny, I would really like to thank you for right now!"
Ginny sighed and sat on Lavender's bed, giving Hermione a deep, studying look. At length, she said, "It is a bit much."
Lavender and Padma sighed; Parvati flopped on her bed in defeat as Ginny pulled out her wand and muttered a Vanishing Spell. Suddenly, to Hermione's intense relief, all the makeup was gone, her hair was deflated, and her skirt was at an acceptable level.
"Better?" Ginny asked in a disheartened tone at seeing her hard work go to waste.
Hermione smiled in thanks. "Much. I can open my eyelids all the way now."
***
Authoress's note!*
Ehhhh. Another Opening, Another Show. This chapter sucked. Royally. I know…it took me six and a half days to finish and THIS is what you get…
*MADame