Delusion Chapter 9

A/N #1: I wish I had an excuse for the long wait but the simple explanation is that I am a huge procrastinator and I sort of…forgot…I hadn't updated this in a while. Anyway I am almost done with The Enemy (!), another fic of mine, so I'm going to have more time for this. Thanks!

Draco scowled. The dance was tonight, and Pansy had just dropped a bomb over his beautifully formulated plan, which was supposed to accomplish so many things, and here Pansy went and said "well, sorry, but I'm in love with a pure fuck and I have to call it quits because I suddenly turned good."

It was like a blasted soap opera.

The dance was tonight, and for the first time in his luxurious, easy life, Draco wasn't the man with the plan. He was a nobody, with absolutely no idea what he was going to do tonight because his original plan wasn't really going to work anymore. After all, the whole thrill had been in the beating Pansy thing, and now that she'd pulled the plug, he honestly (honestly! he'd been so caught up in the moment) didn't care who she shagged next.

But he kind of enjoyed the Pansy wars, as he'd begun to call them in his head. And bringing out Granger's wicked side was always a plus. He never got tired of it, seriously, it was fantastic. He snickered as he remembered that in his original plan, Granger had never caught the biggest issue. Get Potter and Weasley really, really mad at each other, which would make for excellent entertainment. Granger--Hermione--Mud blood--whatever had been so preoccupied with the inane details she had totally missed his side of The Big Picture. Heh. Life was good.

Until of course, last night, when Pansy had suddenly and awkwardly decided she loved Potter.

Wait.

That was un-Pansy-like. Pansy was similar to Draco in that she liked to plan things out. Sure, she was annoying and bitchy and bratty and snobby and silly and all of that rot but…she wasn't as stupid as you might think when you looked at the way she acted. In fact she had those moments when Draco was downright proud of her; the moments where she acting sly and deceiving and there had been that one time she'd managed to get the best of him, too.

What if it was all an act and it was still going strong? But last night, the crying--fucking crying--had looked bloody realistic. And the whole sniffling and he-appreciates-me gig worked as well. Maybe she liked him a teensy bit, and was exaggerating. Hmm, that was very Pansy-esque behavior. In fact it fit Pansy like a wand, so to speak in cliched terms.

Gods. This was going to require a hell of a lot more thinking than he'd originally planned. Another thought struck poor, dismal Draco as he moped around the common room early that morning. He didn't have a date to the dance, which was in…seven hours. Seven hours to make a plan, inform Granger, find a date, and get dressed.

Shit.

******************

Hermione felt pretty relaxed as she woke up, that is, until huge panic attack hit her and she remembered today was the day of the blasted dance, and the day that the psychopath Malfoy came up with a new and probably more twisted plan! And to top it all off like whipped cream from the bottle she didn't even have a date to the dance. It's all right, she told herself, going solo was not equivalent of looking like an idiot.

Actually, in this stupid school, it was. Having a date was pretty much vital, and she was the perfect Hermione Granger--who dated Viktor Krum, for goodness sake, in fourth year--she had to have a date to the dance.

And she didn't. Oh bloody hell, this was more reason to pull Harry away from Pansy, after all he'd canceled their go-as-friends thing in favor of that wench. She'd stolen Hermione's passport to perfection! It was time for payback.

She got out of bed and tried to tune out Parvati and Lavender's constant dance gossip ("whose going with who, do you think?" "whose going with Harry Potter, do you think? "Whose going with Draco Malfoy, do you think? "Whose going with Sally Anne Perks, do you think?" and on and on and on) as she got dressed. Minutes later she was down in the Great Hall trying to send an aura charm to every boy in close proximity…but mentally. Well, maybe one of them was extra perceptive.

No such luck. Ron had a date. Harry had a date. Even Neville had a date! Desperately she scanned the Gryffindor table, checking for prospective dates. Hmm, Seamus maybe? Or perhaps Dean? "Seamus," she asked casually, trying to assert some of Parvati's confidence in her own voice, "who are you going to the dance with?"

"Lavender," he said simply as he picked up another slice of bacon (his fifth one, Hermione noticed with distaste). "Why? You don't have a date?"

Now Hermione had always been a rather truthful girl and even when faced with such a mean and uncaring question such as Seamus's, and she did glare quite pointedly, she wasn't going to lie. "No, Seamus, I do not," she said icily, in what she hoped was a condescending-I-am-so-above-this-childish-dance-business-and-if-Dumbledore-didn't-make-it-mandatory-I-wouldn't-set-foot-in-it voice. Seamus did not apparently catch her sarcasm and ice cold tone because he continued quite amiably.

"Oh, don't break your broomsticks, Dean here doesn't have a date either, do you, Dean?"

Dean was staring at some girl from Ravenclaw, but he looked away as he heard his name. "What's that, Seamus?" he said, helping himself to buttered toast.

"Do you have a date?" Seamus asked, taking yet another slice of bacon. Hermione felt rather ill looking at the two of them and at Dean's concern to the dance the thought of going with him was really waning in favor of going stag.

"To what?" Dean asked, biting into the toast. Hermione looked down as a little bit of butter dribbled down his chin. Dean is a very nice boy, she reminded himself. And he's nowhere near as bad as Ron when it comes to…filthy eating habits, so she shouldn't really be so particular, should she?

"The dance, you dimwit," Seamus said, grabbing more bacon. That's eight slices, Hermione thought, feeling nauseated.

"Oh, no, I don't. Score me a girl yet?" Dean asked casually. Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists. She liked Dean, she really did, but he was so goddamn aggravating sometime! A woman was not a trophy, for Merlin's sake! Hermione felt her feminist autopilot beginning to drive her body and she warily turned it off. Now was not the time. Beggars can't be choosers, she reasoned, and Dean was one of the healthier crops in the field, so to speak.

"Well Hermione here doesn't have a date either," Seamus answered nonchalantly, taking more of the disgusting stuff he'd been shoveling down his throat.

"Really now?" Dean asked, pausing to wipe away the butter from his chin. "What d'you say, Hermione? Want to go to the ball with me?"

Hermione was quite surprised at his frankness and openness and confidence…right after he'd been eating in such a horrid way that a girl that was anything less than supremely desperate would run in the other direction. "Er, all right then," she managed, consoling herself that as long as she arrived on his arm, she would not look like an idiot and she wouldn't have to spend the rest of the evening with him anyway. She'd probably be too busy with Malfoy's plan to really bother with her date, either. Hopefully, with the way things were going.

"Then it's settled," Dean declared and joined Seamus in finishing off the last of the bacon.

*************

Meanwhile, a certain Draco Malfoy was scanning the Great Hall in search of a good-looking, smart, sexy, noticeable, ravishing, cool, and wonderful date. That wouldn't be too hard to find, would it? While it would have been easiest to take someone from Slytherin, he couldn't really see anyone who didn't have a date--or anyone that he hadn't turned down already. Millicent Bulstrode had asked him four days ago and he had made up an excuse about already having a date. Pansy was of course going with Harry. Sally Anne Perks was with Blaise Zabini (lucky Blaise! Sally Anne was supposed to be very, very good), and he didn't even know the names of the girls that weren't in his year. Fuck it.

He did not even bother looking at the Hufflepuff table; no way in hell could he get near those goody-two-shoes. They probably wouldn't even have sex with him after the dance, even though that was pretty much inconceivable. Who wouldn't have sex with him when handed a golden platter with the words "My date is Malfoy I can have sex with him afterwards" right on it? If anyone, the Hufflepuffs, silly things that they were.

Ravenclaw seemed a good option. He'd always thought Mandy Brocklehurst was a very sexy looking girl; she was obviously smart because she was in Ravenclaw. As everyone scrambled for their book bags and began heading towards class, Draco caught up with Mandy Brocklehurst, hoping she didn't have a date already (otherwise he'd have to do some fast talking to convince her that her date was a worthless pig and the only boy worth dating in the whole school was of course, Draco).

Mandy was staring forlornly in front of her and Draco smirked. Always ask when the girl is feeling lonely and unhappy and desperate. Perfect. "Hello," he said amiably, falling into step next to her.

Mandy turned around and fixed sad looking brown eyes on Draco. "Oh. Hello. Do I know you?"

Draco was a bit put out by this sudden statement. Of course she knew him. Hell, everyone knew him! "Of course you do," he purred. "I'm Draco…Draco Malfoy." He wiggled his head around so the shaggy hair moved in what he hoped was a very seductive fashion.

It worked, at least a little bit. She perked up a tad and smiled a watery smile. "Oh, yes, of course I know you. Sorry I'm just feeling a bit upset right now."

"Oh, that's terrible," he said, trying not to sound condescending. He was not into this feelings crap. He was crude, rude, and male. It wasn't going to happen, he thought angrily, so she better shut her load if she planned on shagging him tonight. "How about I help you out?"

She looked up, expecting a miracle and instead seeing his beautiful silver eyes (and he knew they were gorgeous) staring directly into her brown ones. "Go to the dance with me," he commanded.

She nodded. Well, he thought happily, that had been rather simple after all. "Lovely. Meet me here at eight sharp. What are you going to wear?" he asked sharply, all traces of sympathy gone now that he had his date secured.

"Er, a pair of cream colored robes."

He nodded, reminding himself to conjure up a daisy corset. His own dark forest green robes would contrast slightly but it would still look nice enough. Smirking, he did not even bid Mandy goodbye as he walked up ahead to his Transfiguration class.

Now all he needed to do was form a fucking plan. Five and a half more hours…

*************

Classes were over and all the girls were practically racing back to their dorms in order to get ready for the upcoming dance. Hermione had actually zoned off during Professor Binns' lovely lecture on the goblin revolts of 1243 and thought about (gasp!) what to wear. She had finally decided on a pair of beautiful burgundy dress robes. As she came to her dorm she pulled them on and stared dolefully at her face in the mirror. She wasn't really keen on using the same stuff she'd used for the Yule Ball back in 4th year but it had worked, even though it was time-consuming. And every once in a while, turning heads was fun.

She finished up with about twenty minutes left before she had to go down and meet Dean. Somewhere along the evening she'd have to stage a run-in with Malfoy so she could get plan updates. It was going to be a very busy night and she was feeling a bit nervous as the clock kept on ticking.

"You look marvelous, Hermione," reassured Parvati, mistaking her uneasiness for appearance-jitters. Lavender chimed in.

"Seriously, you do look very nice. Why don't you do your hair like that all the time? It looks very pretty pulled back," Lavender chattered away as she applied her fifth coat of mascara. Hermione fingered her eyelashes tentatively. She hated mascara. It was goopy and disgusting and it made her lids feel like glue.

"Well, it's a bit time-consuming," she said, answering Lavender's question.

Finally all the girls traipsed down the stairs to meet their "Prince Idiots" as Lavender had playfully dubbed it. Hermione scanned the room for Dean and spotted him holding a fairly nice corset (violets, perhaps?). He looked pretty good in a pair of handsome black dress robes, although they were a bit short, but Hermione didn't really care about looks that much. He looked good enough. "Hey," she called out, as she approached him.

He fastened the corset and gave her a quick smile. "You look great," he said and led her into the Great Hall, which had been magically altered to make room for a dance. Hermione sighed. Torture was about to begin.

************

Draco sauntered through the Great Hall, Mandy hanging onto his arm. She seemed a lot happier now that she was actually in a throng of people being seen on Draco Malfoy's arm. Good, Draco thought viciously, good. He kept a lookout for Granger--and there she was, looking…ugh, he hated to admit it, quite sexy in burgundy dress robes--talking to what he presumed was her date, a certain Dean Thomas. Draco felt a sudden impetuosity looking at Dean. Stupid Gryffindor, he cursed. Dean bothered him.

While he was zoning out, Mandy Brocklehurst had already abandoned his arm. Draco looked around, and finally spotted her zooming through the crowds. He hurried to catch up to her and asked her, almost breathlessly, where they were going.

"Oh, um, I just wanted to say hi to someone," she said, sounding happier by the minute. It turned out that they were heading right to where Hermione and that stupid Dean Thomas were standing.

"Dean!" Mandy gushed. Dean spun around faster than you could say "idiot" and gasped when he saw Mandy.

"Mandy!" he replied with just as much fervor.

Draco exchanged a look with Granger. Did this mean…?

It meant exactly what they thought it meant. Dean and Mandy disappeared shortly after, without even bothering to say goodbye to their poor, stranded dates. Hermione recalled that Dean had been looking at the Ravenclaw table earlier and Draco remembered unhappily that Mandy had been quite downcast for the day…and it was all because of stupid Thomas. Although somehow Thomas didn't seem as horrible now as he had before.

Gods. How awful. This was a first for Draco…being forgotten about. Apparently Hermione knew that, too.

"So, Malfoy, how does it feel to be rejected?" she asked conversationally.

He growled. "I was not rejected. I'll have you know that I was simply doing Mandy a favor by letting her come to the dance on my muscled arm. Plenty of girls would kill to come to the dance with me, but I am a humanely marvelous and sexy person, and I knew that I had to help a fellow classmate--Mandy--look utterly sophisticated and sexy as she walked into the room."

Hermione stared at Draco for a minute and he smirked, thinking he'd convinced her quite perfectly. "You're a pretty good bullshitter," Hermione finally said.

Draco scowled. Obviously, she was a few notches above the average.

"All right then," he finally said, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, "we obviously don't need to worry about dates--"

"Because they won't be coming back any time soon," Hermione added mournfully.

"So we better concentrate on our task at hand," he finished up.

"What's your plan?" she asked, nearly shouting because of the noise level around them. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Potter dancing with Pansy.

"Don't look now, but we've got trouble to the right," he said, sighing.

Of course she looked. "Shit. What are we going to do?"

Draco smirked. Every time Hermione Granger cursed or decided to do something unmistakably evil, it gave him the immense satisfaction of corrupting another soul. Ah, bliss. "We are going to take photographs."

"Photographs?"

"Yes, Hermione, photographs. We are going to terrorize that silly Creevey kid and take his camera. Then we are going to snap a picture of Potter, alone, and snap a picture of Pansy, alone. We are going to conjure up an image of you girl next to Potter and conjure a picture, a sexy one, of myself next to Pansy. We are going to conveniently leave pictures next to Potter and Pansy."

Hermione breathed audibly. "Interesting."

**************

Nervously Hermione followed Draco in search of Colin Creevey. They found him snapping pictures of Neville, which was a bit disturbing, but they didn't question why. Colin was very erratic and to truly bother him was about the same as going deaf--his high-pitched yelling could do that to anyone. Harry had suffered it first hand.

Hermione nearly trembled as she walked up to the poor kid, reminding herself that this was for Harry's benefit only. And Colin supported Harry one hundred and thirty three percent, after all. "Colin," she said, barking meanly as Draco had told her to do. "Give me your camera."

"Hermione?" he asked neurotically, and Hermione summoned up some strength to resist those pleas.

"Give me the camera, Colin, or I'm going to hex your clothes off."

Colin gripped the camera tighter. "But I can't! I was getting pictures!"

"Well I need the camera more than you, Colin. I'm serious. I will really hex your clothes off."

Colin whimpered. "But Hermione…"

Draco stepped into the picture. "Give her the camera, Creevey, or I will tell Longbottom that you fancy him."

Colin paled. "I do not!" he gasped. "It's Harry I fancy! It's Harry!"

The world seemed to dim, because everyone had heard poor Colin's statement. Hermione nearly felt bad for him but she felt a whole lot worse for poor Harry. "Give us the camera," she said in a low voice. "And we'll pretend we never heard that."

Colin handed it over, trembling like a baby. "P-p-p-lease don't tell him, I've been trying to get over it," he said unhappily.

Malfoy sniggered but Hermione stopped him. "No, seriously, the poor bloke's ready to commit himself to St. Mungo's. Just drop it, Draco, pretend you never heard it."

Draco groaned but did as Hermione asked. Now was not the time. They were on a mission.

After they had gotten the camera, Hermione sneaked up to Harry, who was leaning comfortably at the punch table, although disturbingly staring off into space like only a man in lust can do. Turning off the flash, Hermione snapped the picture and tiptoed back to Draco, passing him the camera. He took it stealthily and moved up to Pansy, who was also smiling off into space, as only a conniving little bitch can do. He took the picture and hurried back to Hermione, who had luckily read about photograph-altering spells and was completely prepared.

She took the first photograph and, concentrating on an image of herself, muttered an incantation. "Transformus," she said softly, prodding her wand at the photo. A smiling, bubbly Hermione took her place next to Harry. "Put your arm around him," Draco whispered. Hermione sighed and prodded the photo once more so that picture Hermione was giggling and kissing Harry's cheek.

"Happy?" she asked irritably.

"Yes. Now do the other one."

Hermione pulled out the other photograph and concentrated on an image of Draco. Unfortunately, concentrating required scanning all of Draco and Hermione couldn't help but notice how good-looking he'd gotten. Damn. Too bad it was sadistic and evil Malfoy. Finally she said the incantation and a picture of Draco, which did not need to be prodded, slung his arm around Pansy and Pansy was the one who giggled and began kissing Draco on his cheek.

"Perfect," they breathed as they smiled at the two very busy photographs.

Now the only thing left was to distribute the pictures.

A/N #2: Well, I made the chapter very long so I could make up for the long wait. LMTran-I don't know if you're still reading the story, but I love you! Yes, at first when I started the story, I did want to make fun of the fics where everyone is ridiculously good-looking, but nobody got it, so I sort of dropped the focus on ridiculously good looks! But you noticed! Wow, thanks! I didn't think anyone would get the fact that I was making fun of it.

Please review! Thanks!