Tap tap. A disgruntled Hermione poked her head up from the snuggly wuggly covers. What is that damn noise? All she could think was Make it stop, make it stop. The noise did not stop. Annoyed and very frustrated, she opened one eye and realized an owl - er, eagle - was tapping impatiently at her window. Grumbling, she let him in.
Hermione grabbed the note and read it with one eye open.
"That little... dipshit. He wouldn't. He wouldn't tell," she muttered incoherently, while pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt. She would kill the bloody bastard before he could say "Mummy."
Great Hall, breakfast time
It was busy, and very noisy in the Great Hall. Hermione peered around the Slytherin table, trying to spot her victim. Aha, ugly guy with blonde hair. Sticking her nose up in the air, she marched indignantly over to him.
"Malfoy," she said coldy, "A word, please."
Grinning idiotically (and thinking she was going to drool over him), he followed her smugly out of the Great Hall. As soon as they rounded the corner, Hermione gave him a punch in the head.
"Fuck - that hurt, you ho!"
"I'm glad."
"What is your problem?" groaned Malfoy, clutching his throbbing head.
"Ummmmm.... let's see. You. I hope you realized by now that nobody blackmails Hermione Granger and gets away with it," Hermione snapped. "Dipshit."
"Slutface," said Malfoy.
"Manwhore," retorted Hermione.
"Ass..wipe."
(Many, many insults later.)
"So... you didn't answer my note," said Malfoy, picking at his nails.
"Oh piss off," exclaimed Hermione, throwing her hands up in the air exasperately, and walked off.
"...Is that a no?"
Gryffindor common room
"Good morning, Harrian," mumbled Drake.
"... Do me... a favor, and don't sleep with me again, k," said Harrian, hyperventilating.
"Harrian," muttered Drake impatiently, "Can't you see? I'm not doing this out of choice! Here we are, stranded in the middle of snowy mountains. Do you see any big hotels here? Because I sure don't. And if you don't want to sleep in the tent with me, you can sleep outside on the warm, comfy snow. Who'd want to sleep with you anyways?" Drake shuddered and make disgusted noises for effect.
However, what Harrian didn't know was that Drake was crossing his fingers.
Hermione closed her notebook and hugged it. She must be careful to keep it very, very safe. How did Malfoy get to it anyways? That stalker. Or maybe he coincidently thought up the name Drake. Maybe Drake was a really popular name and she didn't even know about it. Whatever. Opening her notebook again, Hermione scratched her head and continued to write.
Near Hagrid's hut
"Wake up, Bella," snapped Voldemort.
Bellatrix responded by kicking him in the shins. "Shut... up... sleep..."
Voldemort looked skeptically at the hippogriff that was about to crap on Bellatrix's head. Hey, she wouldn't wake up, it wasn't his fault.
After the lovely encounter in the Great Hall last night, Voldemort stupidly announced he was going to get some rest. He must have not been a very long-term thinker, as he didn't consider where he was going to rest. He couldn't go in some random dormitory and throw a kid out the window, that was so not Dark Lord-y. Thus, not thinking ahead has led the Dark Lord and his servant to sleep in an animal barn on piles of dung. Fantastic.
Voldemort's thoughts were interupted by a disgusted, muffled shriek as Bellatrix woke up with a surprise on her head.
"It shit on me, that little -" Bellatrix screamed, blindly grabbing some leaves to wipe the offending material off her face.
Voldemort looked at her and smiled. "I told you to wake up."
Great Hall, Hogwarts
"... And some pastel green with the light yellow, to top it off!" squealed Dumbledore, swishing his wand around to produce crepe paper.
The Hogwarts staff were decorating the Great Hall for the upcoming Spring Fling dance. Professor Flitwick was dancing around on the tables, Professor McGonagall was picking at her wand, and Snape was looking as surly as ever as he stroked the Barbie doll's hair inside his robes.
Dumbledore looked around dissapointingly at the rest of his staff. "Why aren't you helping? We could use some light vermillions and perhaps some pastel purples around here."
The staff responded by unenthusiastically waving their wands around, producing deflated balloons and dirty looking crepe paper.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, now, we must put our hearts into this! C'mon, friends, repeat after me! Productus Creparus! Now, with a little more oomph!"
How much I would like to hex the bumbling idiot, thought Snape, as he followed the rest of the staff with the swishing of the wands " - no, it's more of a snap of the wands- " or snap of the wands. I wonder how much it costs to hire a hitman?
Near Hagrid's hut
"We must form a battle plan. We cannot risk any faults on our parts," schemed Voldemort, pacing back and forth about the barn.
"That's your job," muttered Bellatrix distractedly, spraying herself with deoderant that she accio-ed from some random bathroom in Hogwarts.
"If we're going to do this, we might as well do this right," Voldemort said firmly. He looked at Bellatrix. She nodded distractedly.
"What if they mistaken you for Mortimer again?"
A tiny spot of colour rushed to Voldemort's incredibly pale complexion. "It's... not so bad."
Bellatrix raised her eyebrow. "Don't tell me you actually enjoyed that," she exclaimed.
"Well," Voldemort responded haughtily, "It's quite nice, really. From what I hear, Mortimer is supposedly a real ... a real, er... you know."
"I don't know," snorted Bellatrix, "A real what?"
"Er... a real... s - s ..."
"What?"
"A real sex god."
"Oh..."
"Yes," continued Voldemort, slightly embarrassed. He was kind of shy with that word, it wasn't commonly used in his profession. "I find it quite complimenting, actually."
A few awkward minutes passed.
"So. About the battle plans."
Slytherin common room
Draco Malfoy slumped dejectedly on the sofa. He had just been rejected - by Hermione Granger of all people! No one refused a Malfoy. It wasn't possible. Why - he'd be the laughing stock of the whole dark side! He could just imagine Voldemort poking fun at him. I must get her, thought Draco determinely. Since blackmail didn't work, he'd have to think of a better plan.
He sat up straight as an idea hit him. Maybe he could try being nice to her! Hah... ha... ha... that was pretty funny. A Malfoy being nice? Besides, look where being nice brought him. When he gave her the frog legs, she just chucked them at his head.
Darn.
*****
Yay, long time no update. This was possibly the weirdest chapter, if possible. Please review, I'll be forever greatful. :D
By the way, read my new story, it's not the funny random type, but I need some feedback on it, please? Hee, shameless plug.