Rise and Die! Chapter 2
A/N: Yes, I have decided to continue it (and I really wasn't going to), because I got such great reviews! I never expected such an amazing response; thank you all so, so, so much and I hope you like this chapter just as much. To those of you that asked who our sexy lad Draco is engaged to—I say, fear not, I have not forgotten and you will soon know!
Harry Potter was strutting down Alexander Lane with his newest girlfriend, Melinda Beetoter. Melinda claimed to be a Hogwarts' graduate three classes below Harry, but Harry wasn't quite sure she was being completely honest; she didn't seem to know a thing about the place.
"So, er, you said you didn't have Professor McGonagall?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, no, she had retired by that time," Melinda said sweetly and batted her plentiful eyelashes. Harry inwardly laughed; his good buddy Hermione was always complaining about the batting-eyelashes bit. 'Good God,' she'd scream, 'It looks like the girl's got something in her eye! It is not attractive when the man thinks you are trying to wiggle out an extra contact!'
"Retired?" he asked amusedly. "But you said you graduated only three years after I did—you had to have some class with her, because I had her my entire seven years."
Melinda looked confused but said lightly, "Oh… did I? I most definitely meant seven years after you graduated, not three! Silly me! My maths skills are not top notch, I'm afraid."
Harry smiled. "It's really alright, I don't blame you. Oh, excuse me," he said as his very hi-tech and completely wizardised mobile, so to speak, went off. He answered the cell as he thought about how excellent it was to have the best of both worlds rolled into one extremely good-looking phone. "Hello?" he inquired.
Melinda watched as her new beau's face turned a variety of colors, and his mouth opened to let out an absolute howl.
"I cannot believe this," he raged over the phone. "Simply cannot… Hermione! Hermione! How much bloody beer did you drink?!"
Melinda wanted to laugh, but somehow knew now was really not the time. "It wasn't beer?" Harry was saying now. "Well then what the hell was it? You don't know? You don't know? You don't know why! How can you not know why!"
"Bah," he finally said, growing all quiet. "I'll be right there. Don't move. Oh, wait, you can't, you're still married…"
He turned presently to Melinda and muttered, "One of my best friends got drunk and married our enemy. Will be right back."
With that, he disappeared with a pop.
----------------------------------------------------
Draco watched quietly as Hermione wailed into the phone she'd found on the dresser (although the Malfoys did not like Muggles; they'd found it to be an excellent device to use for security measures; no wizard would check phone conversations!). She was screaming and ranting and going absolutely insane. He wondered if she was bothering Potter or Weasley. Probably Potter. Always did seem to fancy him, didn't she?
"Just hurry up," she screeched. "And I don't want to hear a lecture. Who's dating that buffoon of a girl? What? You've got a new one now? You go through them like candy, Harry! Oh, shut up, you!"
He had to laugh. Of course Potter would have many a girlfriend; who wouldn't want to date some rich and not elfish (although he couldn't say that Potter wasn't dwarfish) boy who also happened to be a part-time professional Quidditch player and had a leading role as an Auror in the ministry?
It wasn't fair that Potter had amounted to "so much", as other people said. Potter was a cretin.
"Go take a shower," Hermione said, snapping her attention to him.
"What? Afraid your … body fluids will stay on me?" he asked seriously.
"Go to hell, Malfoy," she said, gritting her teeth.
"I'm already here," he replied with a smirk, and walked amicably over to the luxurious bathroom.
Hermione sat down on the big burgundy couch in the room and picked at her toenails absentmindedly. She checked her watch. She'd been married for probably nine hours. Nine hours, seven of which she could not and did not want to remember. But they had to get a divorce—immediately. The only way to do that was obviously to find out where they'd been married; however, neither she nor Draco had figured this out as of yet.
Hermione stared out the window and contemplated suicide. Right now it seemed the easiest way out of this mess, wasn't it? No, better yet, throw Malfoy out the window—then all would be resolved. Then her life could go back to being perfect!
A house-elf seemed to visualize right in front of her eyes. The poor thing looked sodden and creepy all at once as it announced in a ghostly voice, "A Harry Potter here to see you, madam."
"Well, where is he?" she said, refraining from baring her teeth at the poor thing.
Harry stepped in and grinned. "You're dismissed, Lola," he said, waving at the house-elf. It wallowed into the ground, at least in Hermione's currently un-observant eyes.
"Hermione Jane Granger," Harry scolded. "Or, wait? Wait a minute, you're not Hermione Jane Granger anymore! You're Hermione Granger Malfoy!"
"Go fuck your broom, Harry," Hermione snapped.
"Wow, there, he's corrupted you in, what, eight hours? I'm surprised you gave in so easily," Harry teased lightly.
"I'm surprised you seem to be taking his side," Hermione peeved. "I called you here to help me out with this crazy mess, not make it worse!"
"All right, all right," Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Where's the lucky husband?"
"Harry!" she growled.
"Goodness, he must really like it when you do that little growl thing you've got going," Harry said amiably.
Before Hermione could respond with what was sure to be an absolutely rip-to-shreds comment, the master of evil himself stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and wet hair dripping in his eyes.
"Why, yes, Potter," he drawled, "she did do that last night, although that's not the part where I got a little scared," he said, looking pointedly at Hermione.
She suddenly felt very ashamed. What had she done for Malfoy to be talking like… like she was a pornography star or something?!
"Aw, I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry soothed gently, moving over to her and patting her on the back. "It's just that you don't screw up very often, and this is a very big mistake. It's so serious that I have to be treating it lightly otherwise I'd probably end up Avada'ing Malfoy and sending you off to some grandmother who would watch you very, very carefully."
Draco snorted. Hermione groaned. Harry smiled.
"Now let's get this mess sorted out," he continued, suddenly business-like. "Where do you two think you got married?"
Hermione felt a little riled up at this Harry-taking-charge-of-her-situation deal, but Malfoy was far worse. "No, Potter," he barked. "This is my mess and so be it if it involves your whore, it does not involve you! Leave! Get out of my house!"
"Do not call her a whore!" Harry yelled.
"Stop it," Hermione sighed. "I don't care if he calls me a whore; right now he's actually insulting himself. And Harry, he's right. Thanks for dropping by with emotional support, I'm really grateful. But this is our mess and we are going to deal with it. Don't worry, I'll be divorced by this evening, latest, and we can put this thing behind us." In the last line she glared at Malfoy.
He shrugged. "It isn't my fault we got married," he said. "In fact I bet if I remembered anything it would've been you that suggested it. Women are into this whole 'marriage' deal. I wanted to remain a bachelor for another five years, thank you."
"Oh, look, Malfoy's saying thank you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and turning back to Harry. "Got it?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, I see. Well, call me Hermione, this afternoon; I want to know exactly what happens. Oh, and congratulations. I wish you the best of luck on your honeymoon…."
"Damn it, Potter," Draco and Hermione growled together. "Get out."
He left and the two of them were in the same room, staring at each other with deep dislike. "I'm hungry," Hermione finally said. "It's already ten."
"So go eat," Draco replied coldly.
"Well, I don't know where my purse is, yet another one of my many, many worries today…not to mention the clothes I wore last night, not to mention that you have a kitchen with plenty of food, and not to mention that this is now my house!" she finished triumphantly.
"It is not your house, Granger, never say it is!" he shouted back.
"Oh, what's that? Calling your wife 'Granger'? Uh-uh-uh… I think it's Malfoy and Malfoy now, isn't it?" Hermione asked sweetly; even though she hated it herself, it was still fun to rile Malfoy up about the same thing.
"Oh, shut your damn mouth," he scorned and walked out of the room. "If you're hungry, Hermione Malfoy, then I suppose you'll have to eat what we have. Please don't contaminate it."
"Well, dear husband, I suppose it will have to do even though I'm sure that even the house-elves do not touch your food," she retorted angrily as she followed him down the spiraled staircases and halls of angry-looking portraits and expensive art (Damn, she was going to have to come back here sometime and really look at these! They were awfully nice!)
"Wife, here is the dining room," he snapped. "Help yourself. I shall be reading my newspaper and also try to rack my brain for some memory of the hellhole in which we made the biggest mistake of our lives. I recommend you do the same." With that he picked up his newspaper, grabbed a banana off the glass breakfast table (it was so pretty, Hermione thought to herself), and stomped into the nearby drawing room, where Hermione could hear him turn the pages of the paper. Now that was a very annoying noise.
Hermione wandered round the kitchen and looked for a sign of a refrigerator, but it seemed like the Malfoys didn't have one. "Breakfast," she said out loud. "I need breakfast." As if that was a password or something a house-elf appeared on cue and in its hand brought a steaming plate of gorgeous looking breakfast food.
"Cereal," she said, feeling bored. The plate disappeared and in its place were a bowl, some milk, cereal, and a spoon big enough to feed all of the house-elves. Interesting. Hermione had long since given up on S.P.E.W. but the Malfoys house-elves seemed as if they were the worst off of the lot.
She ate her cereal slowly, trying to do exactly what Malfoy
had asked: remember the 'hellhole at which they had committed the biggest
mistakes of their lives'.
Hermione began to laugh at the situation. "I can't believe this," she called to Malfoy. "When you were in seventh year would you have ever imagined waking up married to me?"
"No, if I had imagined that I would term it not even nightmare, but hellish disaster," he called back cheerfully.
"Oh, you vile, horrid…" she trailed off, scowling at his back.
"Funny," he replied lightly. "You said the same thing last night, only with a whole lot more giggling."
She threw her spoon at him.
A/N: Well, there it is… it's the best I could do at the moment. Any ideas? Feel free to tell me. Oh, and a reader pointed out something I found important, so listen up! I did use 'fuck' a lot in the first chapter; I felt there was enough circumstance for it. This chapter's got a lot of 'obscenity' as well—this reader said I ought not to use that much of the f-word.
Well, I'm going to be using it, but my question is this: should I bump the rating of this piece to R? I am willing to do so, but originally I thought it would fit alright under PG13. Well, please tell me your opinion… R or PG13? I need to know so please review, tell me what you thought of the chapter, and what the rating of this story should be! Thanks.