Delusion Chapter 8

A/N: Okay, yeah, so I took off the author's note that I had in here a long time ago, so it looks like this is another "chapter 8" according to fan fiction, even though last chapter was really chapter 7, so you might've already reviewed "Chapter 8", but could you do it again, please? I ask because this is the one we've all been waiting for. Lol, if anyone's actually reading this.

Draco fingered the note delicately and carefully extracted it from her books. Oh, yes…he thought gleefully. This would make a lovely addition to his steadily growing Things To Blackmail Idiots With collection. Then suddenly, he realized that by taking it away, Granger…er, Hermione, he supposed, would lie and say she'd never had the blasted thing anyway and his plan would be in ruins. Oh, no. The best thing was just to ask her about it.

He grinned wolfishly. Perhaps she'd fancied him at one point? He was a little surprised that the thought didn't disgust him as he thought it would; in fact, he found it rather amusing. A lot of girls fancied him, he knew, and what fun it would be if Granger turned out to be one of them!

Shrugging, he put the note back in the middle of her papers and left them sitting in the library. Sure, he was working with her and all that rot, but he was still a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't just sporadically do nice things such as returning papers to someone just because they'd forgotten them somewhere. He walked back to his common room, a little tired as the evening approached, and let his thoughts explore the possibilities of his new plan to beat Pansy.

Speaking of the devil, the girl walked up to him as soon as he entered his common room. "Draco," she stated simply. "I want a word."

He immediately established his cool demeanor and gave her a bored look. "Really, now."

"About the bet."

His interest peaked, he sat down on one of the cold armchairs strewn around the Slytherin common room. "Go on."

"Look," she said, playing with a lock of her hair, "this bet…I…it's not nice."

Draco was caught completely off guard. "What are you talking about?" he sputtered. "Parkinson! We are Slytherins! We are never nice! We love to have fun at other people's expense! Have you got something in your knickers?" he yelled.

Pansy gave an exaggerated sigh. "Look, let's just call it off. You can have the one hundred galleons and I won't ask you to be my boyfriend for the rest of this year."

Draco was unnerved, almost panicky, really. "Seriously, Parkinson," he asked, feeling a little worried. "Did you have too much of the cake at dinner, then? Remember, last time you did that, you felt a bit funny, maybe you're just feeling that way again…"

He trailed off as Pansy interrupted him. "No, Draco, this is for real. I don't want to do the bet anymore."

Draco scowled childishly. He wanted to win the bet, but not by having Pansy forfeit! "You can't just stop," he drawled, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "You know the unwritten codes of Slytherin betting."

"Well, yeah," she admitted, and he could tell she was a tad nervous, "but I'm letting you win, aren't I?"

"There's no fun in winning if I don't actually beat you," he hissed. "Anyhow, why do you have this sudden urge to stop screwing with Potter's brains? You hate Potter! Don't you…don't you…oh, shit…"

Pansy's normally reddish complexion had turned even redder and she looked down at the cold stone.

"Pansy!"

"Draco, don't be a prat about it, really," she said, trying to look calm, but he could see the tears forming in her eyes. He scowled. Tears for Potter?!

"You fancy the Boy-Who-Has-No-Brains, then?"

"No, not really, well, yes, actually, but not a lot, well…a lot really then, but not to the point where I'd betray…well, maybe I would…but, yes, I guess I do," she concluded, looking listless.

Draco bit his lip in frustration. Well, he decided spontaneously, which was a little odd for him because he normally used well-thought out plans, immaculate to the tiniest detail, and here Pansy was, ruining his lovely plan to beat her in the blasted bet…well, he'd just have to break them up anyway. He and Granger'd have to take it into power drive. There was no way in hell he could have such a Slytherin like Pansy fancy Potter, and Potter already fancied her anyway because of her charms…Gods! "You're crazy, Pansy," he finally said, trying to sound accepting of her little forfeit.

"Well…maybe I am. And you really should get to know Harry, he's a nice kid…doesn't deserve to be played like this," she said, looking directly at him.

"Oh, so now's he's Harry, then? Well, Pansy, why don't you go and keep your stupid Potter, I don't want anything to do with you!" he yelled angrily.

"I figured you wouldn't," she said softly, and turned towards her dormitories.

Draco took one last opportunity to insult her decision as she left. "You've gone soft, Parkinson!" he yelled, clear across the common room. "You've gone so bloody soft! You're just setting yourself up for trouble…you know it would never work…your mother, my mother…"

Pansy swung around, her eyes flickering dangerously. "That may be, Draco," she said. "But guess what. I don't like you anymore. And what do you care anyway? I'm always Parkinson-the-pug-faced-bitch around you. You think I don't hear your blasted insults, you think I'm immune to you, but I can't take it anymore. Yeah, maybe I did fancy your fucking body for a bit but guess what, I don't fancy you. You think you are so bloody hot, you…you're always making fun of me, Draco! Why do you care now? Just because I've gone for a so-called pansy like Harry? Well, at least he's sensitive to my feelings!" she yelled and stomped up the dormitory, slamming the door behind her in a soap-opera fashion.

Draco stood there, flabbergasted. Merlin. Oh, bloody Merlin, purgatory, and back…what had he done to get into this one? Girls!

It was time to talk to Granger. What exactly had Potty done to Parkinson?

* * * * * * *

Hermione scowled as she realized she'd left her papers in the library. After dinner she made her way down to the library, Ron in tow. "So, Hermione," Ron began. Hermione sighed. She didn't realize that talking to Ron was going to be so different when she knew…well, when she knew it. She couldn't exactly bring herself to say it.

"Yes?" she asked casually, as she bent to pick up her papers, and then she froze. There, in the middle of them, was that stupid note that she'd kept…

What if Malfoy had seen it? He'd probably get the wrong idea, the pervert that he was…and she had only been trying to keep a bit of Slytherin with her, something to remember her very first fancy by…

She tuned out Ron as she thought about first year, on the train. She hadn't talked to him at that point, but his hair had looked so soft and smooth, and it was silky…it was the hair she'd always wanted, and her eleven-year-old self was unconsciously drawn to his charms. Then, he'd opened his mouth to speak, and all the feelings she'd felt had disappeared. The soft blonde hair was no longer a symbol of beauty but it just meant Malfoy. She'd hated him from then on, up till today of course, but the very first feeling she'd felt about him hadn't been hate or anger. It had been a combination of envy and an eleven-year-old form of lust.

And so she'd kept the stupid note, just to remind herself. She'd have to burn it, really. She couldn't just go around leaving it everywhere.

"Hermione," Ron was demanding furiously. "You haven't heard a word I've said."

"Oh, sorry, Ron," she said, mentally berating herself for zoning out about a piece of parchment. "What were you saying?"

He groaned. "Remember? You were complaining about not having a date to the dance after Harry, well, ditched you?"

"What is this with you and Malfoy, he did not reject me!"

But Ron was staring at her, aghast. "Malfoy?" he asked slowly. "How does he come up?"

Hermione faltered, annoyed at herself for letting that tiny but important detail slip. "Er…" she began bravely, wishing she could come up with an excuse.

"Why, hello there, Weasel," she heard a cold, familiar drawl behind her. She turned around, fully expecting to see Malfoy smirking at them, and there he…wasn't?

"Where did that come from?" she asked Ron, surprised. He looked just as discombobulated as her.

"I really don't know," he said, looking around wildly.

"Over here, you bloody dungbomb!" she heard the voice again, and funny, it sounded exactly like Malfoy, down to the very last insult, but where the hell was he?

"Sounds like Malfoy!" Ron said intelligently.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course it does. Someone must be playing a joke on us," she said sarcastically.

Unbelievably, Ron seemed to believe this. He poked behind a couple of books in the library and gave up. "Come out, whoever you are!" he called loudly. Hermione could tell he was getting a tad furious.

Hermione herself looked behind a couple of shelves and all but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Ron shook his head, confused. "That's really odd," he concluded.

"Too right it is," the voice said malevolently. "You are a bloody genius."

"What? No, I'm not," Ron said, now thoroughly confused. "Honestly, Hermione…"

Hermione snickered. Ron could be so funny sometimes, even when the fun was at his expense. "Just drop it, Ron," she said consolingly. "Go play a game of chess or something. I'm going to study for the Potions test."

"It's not for another three weeks, Hermione," Ron said patronizingly.

Hermione felt panicky at the very thought. "Three weeks!" she exclaimed, "Ron, move! I must study!"

Ron shrugged and exited the library. Hermione could tell he was still rather puzzled about the voice…actually, she was too.

"Hullo," she heard the same voice behind her. She swung around quickly, and there he was.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed. "Where were you?"

He smirked. "I have my ways," he said. "Anyhow, I got you out of that stupid blunder you made."

Hermione nodded as she remembered the little slip of tongue she'd had earlier. "Oh, thanks," she said, trying to make sure that the 'thanks' didn't sound forced. After all, it wasn't very often that she apologized to Malfoy.

"Don't mention it," he said seriously. "And I mean it. Don't. Ever. Mention. It."

Hermione smirked. "I won't. Unless I have reason to."

Draco Malfoy, the King of Blackmailing, would surely understand the sentence. "We've got a problem," he said quickly, straight to the point.

"What? Your hair has started falling out?"

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Granger, oops, I mean Hermione. You're a bloody genius. No."

"Well then, what is it?" she asked impatiently.

"Pansy fancies the Wonder Idiot."

Hermione was taken aback. "You're joking," she said plainly, convincing herself that it really was a joke.

"Not quite," he continued grimly, and proceeded to tell her the entire story.

"Well, what're we going to do?" she asked worriedly. "I can't have Harry with Pansy, that's…not…cool."

"Obviously," he said, rolling his eyes. "We're just going to have to work harder. The dance is tomorrow night, Granger, and we are going to execute the plan exactly the way it's supposed to go."

"Well, what's that going to do? Maybe she really has changed or something…"

"No!" he said loudly. "Double the efforts! This cannot happen! It ruins Slytherins and Gryffindors and goddamnit, Gran—Her—Whatever, we are going to break them up, no matter what happens! I never lose a bet!"

Hermione smiled weakly at the intense display of anger before her. "Well, technically," she whispered. "You didn't lose it."

The sound of a potions book being slammed shut echoed throughout the library and a very disapproving Madam Pince threw out two students, one looking rather guilty and the other looking like he was ready to Avada someone.

A/N: Well, didn't get to the dance…yet…change of plans, wasn't it, lol…well, next chapter will be the dance, I thought this was a fair length chapter, like I said earlier, you might've already reviewed "chapter 8" but please do it again…hehe…if you have to, don't log in! Thanks!