Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. La-la-la-la.

A/N: (PLEASE READ, VERY IMPORTANT!)
Everything is under Hiatus at the moment, I have updated this and this will probably be my latest update for the next few months. If you want to read more of my Hermione/Draco work I have started a new account on to cure this writer's block. Here's my other account name: we are infinate

There. Go on now. Read and review!

Schemes on Revenge

The scene unfolded was brilliantly amusing, for let's say: Snape, the Slytherins, perhaps a bit of Hermione and me.

To watch Potter and Weasley both glow pink and then suddenly burst out in feathers was too much for my poor stomach to take.

Slowly but surely, tears glistened from underneath my closed eyelids. I collapsed onto the ground, my body racking with intense laughter.

"Malfoy," Potter shouted through the pink sticky liquid, "I'm going to kick your ferret arse!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Professor Snape looked at Potter with a bemused smirk on his triumphant face.

"I think Potter looks quite fetching," Zabini drawled from the side. "Pink is definitely a colour that suits him well. Too bad the face is scarred."

"You mean his scar?" Hermione commented, twirling her hair around her finger nervously.

"No I meant his face," Blaise repeated. "It has been hideously disfigured due to the lack of beauty that perhaps he needed to look—well like me."

"Incredibly pompous," I snorted. "He's already like you."

Zabini gave me a withering look that told me to go fuck off and die.

Hermione chuckled under her breath.

It was only a matter of time before things got heated up again with Potter and his idiot side-kick.

"What you are laughing at," Weasley snapped at her. "You better watch your back from now on. Ginny is going to get you back for what you did to Harry!"

"Oh has Weasel not been getting some over the holidays?" Pansy sneered.

"You stay out of this you Slytherin slut," Harry snarled, cleaning off the potion with a flick of his wand.

A fight was bound to break out.

Snape, being the ever rational one, although very greasy, stepped in to intervene. "Mr Potter," he drawled, "I think it most appropriate if you would meet me for detention with Mr Weasley for, first of all, harassing other students, and secondly, for disrupting the entire class with your clumsiness."

No matter how much Potter claimed it was I that had dumped the potion on him, Snape wouldn't listen. I love having such a caring and wonderful Head of House.

Snape had actually lectured me after class. However he still had the faintest trace of a grin on his face. That hypocritical bastard!

Hermione was already in her next class and I was off to mine. I walked with Blaise to Transfiguration. He was in high spirits as he talked about—all things possible. He wouldn't shut up.

"Oh and once when you were out in the Great Hall for dinner, all the Slytherins gathered together and sold all of your blanket collection. Although we did duplicate them so you wouldn't hex us. I thought it rather funny that some Fifth Year Hufflepuff had bought the entire collection for thirty Galleons. She must've been desperate for some hot Malfoy-blanket-loving. I can't really say I know the feeling. I've never been infatuated with you Malfoy, perhaps it's the reason that you're not as good-looking as me, or even more so. But good-looking people are so hard to find these days—"

"For the love of Merlin, Zabini," I screamed, turning to face him, "would you please shut up for one second?"

Zabini looked behind me and chuckled.

"What is it now?" I sighed in frustration.

He shook his head and traced his lips with his fingers, indicating that he wasn't supposed to be speaking.

"Tell me Zabini," I seethed, "or it's your life on the line."

"There's a Norwegian Ridgeback behind you," he replied with a grin on his face.

My eyes glimmered in excitement as I turned around.

Only to see a miniature version of what Zabini had told me.

"What the hell is that?"

"Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall scolded, "please refrain from using such language in my classroom."

"Oh I am terribly sorry Professor," I simpered, "I shall now wash my dirty, foul mouth out!"

I was not going to do that, but that idiot Zabini—although I have suspicions that he did it on purpose—waved his wand and filled my mouth with soap.

That little wanker—I was going to castrate that evil little zucchini.

Yes, Zabini has some weird fascination with zucchinis since he was young; perhaps it's because of his Italian heritage? All Italians have fascinations with weird vegetables.

I wonder…

Quickly noticing the stinging pain in my mouth I rinsed out the soap with water, all the while glaring at the laughing idiot.

"Oh Malfoy, you should've seen your face! I think even old sag-face McGonagall couldn't stop laughing!"

Once more, I sent my famous glare at him and tried to kill him with my evil red-slit eyes—wait; I don't have red-slit eyes! I am thinking of the dead Voldemort…evil snake-like eyes that could kill a man in seconds and send shivers down his spine.

I shall thrive to become him one day, except without all the killing and slaughtering of Muggle-borns. I'm quite fond of them actually.

One in particular…

Oh Hermione!

Darn, I'm swooning again.

Oh wait for the revenge Zabini.

You'll be crushed when I'm done with you.

Perhaps my evil scheme shall be—crushing you with a mountain of zucchinis!

Perhaps not, since it seems rather childish of me.

My evil scheme…

Yes…

Must work on evil laugh…

Yes…