A/N: Yeah, this one's pretty long. Proceed at your own risk.
No sooner had Snape informed Hermione of Harry's whereabouts, than had Hermione began preparing Ron for the mission. She'd evidently completely forgotten of the evening's earlier mishaps, or perhaps she simply ignored them. Ron seemed ecstatic to be on his way, but Hermione sensed a bit of nostalgia in his tone.
"Ron," she prodded. "What's got your knickers in a knot?"
"Oh, nothing. What makes you think that?"
"Well," Hermione began once more, "you have yet to even touch your plate. And we both know how much you love your mashed potatoes, Ronniekins."
Ron turned the color of the beets still sitting leisurely before him. "Hermione," he scolded in a stressed whisper, "I asked you not to call me that in public."
"No, you asked me not to talk about Mister Oopsies' problems in public. Ronniekins was positively up for grabs." At this, several of the girls at the table snickered, but Hermione failed to notice. "So, tell me Ron, what's doing you in?"
"It's just that," Ron emitted a long sigh. "It's just that I'm feeling a bit blue, you know, about leaving Hogwarts and all. What if we never come back? What if we're sent to Azkaban for killing Dudley? What if tonight is the last chance we've got to do everything we've... ever wanted to do?" At that, he fiddled with a large bottle in his pocket that nobody had noticed.
"Don't be stupid, Ron. Harry's the one who'll be doing the killing, not us, and besides, he swore to use no wizarding means."
"I know, it's just–" at that moment, Draco Malfoy came strutting up to the table. Surprisingly, he was wearing a form of clothing. Unsurprisingly, he was clad in a loin cloth. Both Hermione's and Ron's jaws dropped. "M-m-m-m-m-malfoy!" Ron whispered.
"T-t-t-t-t-today, junior!" He retorted sardonically. "What are you fine young blood traitors doing this finer eve? Attending another funeral?"
"Draco Malfoy!"
"Ah, yes. I actually came here to have a word with you, mudblood. That is, if your little Ronniekins and his troubled pecker still can't remember how to conjure up a petrificus curse."
"How dare–" Hermione began, but was cut off prematurely.
"I won't let you!" Ron yelled, putting his foot down, finally. "Er–I mean," he began as Malfoy's grin widened. "I have something for you," he whispered finally.
"'Ere that?" Malfoy shouted across the hall. "The Weasel has something for Draco Malfoy!"
"Please," Ron pled. "Please, for the love of Merlin, shut your mouth. It's merely a token... of my appreciation. Here," Ron fumbled with the bottle in his pocket. He produced a gleaming, vibrating green bottle of champagne that looked as if it were over a hundred years old. "Only the finest, I assure you. You can even test it with magic if you don't trust me–" Malfoy snatched the bottle from his hand.
"This is an insult. 78 alcohol? That's less than butterbeer. You are truly an amateur, Weasel. Now then, to the mudblood." Malfoy paused and shot her a knowing glance. "I'd like to have a word with you. Would you care to accompany me to the astronomy tower?"
Hermione furrowed her brow. "In doing so, I'd insist you call me by my real name."
"Right. Sure thing, Carpet-Muncher Granger."
"You are tireless, you know that?" Hermione complained as he ripped her from her seat and dragged her by her massive hair knot to the astronomy tower. Oh, what a sight to see: a Slytherin boy in a loin cloth with a huge bottle in hand dragging a Gryffindor girl prefect by her hair as she merely practiced spells and lectured to bypassing onlookers.
He finally released her when they'd reached the spot of Albus Dumbledore's fall at the hands of Severus Snape. "Now then," he exhaled, whipping out the bottle of champagne Ron had given him. "Have a drink, why don't you?" When Hermione declined, he held her down and poured half of the bottle down her throat anyway. "Ah, that feels better, neh?"
Hermione was already starting to feel a bit woozy. "Mmmm yessssss."
"Now, how about we have a nice shag?"
"Dracooooo, you're so funnnnyyy!" Hermione hiccupped before having another swig or two or seventeen of Ron's mysterious potion.
"Well, is that a yes?"
"Ummmmm I'm going to savveeee this later foorr," Hermione concluded, putting the bottle to the side. "What you wannnt?"
"To have raging hot animal sex with you," he said cooly, and paused briefly before continuing. "Hermione," he said with relish.
"Mmmm YES! I'm Hermione! You waaaannna shag like yeahhh..." Her voice trailed off and she removed her shirt, thanking Merlin she'd remembered to shave. The whole turning-into-a-man thing was really getting to her. Draco gasped, ripped his loin-cloth off, and threw her up against the wall to brutally penetrate her. He left her there unconscious for the rest of the evening.
But she awoke with a massive hangover at around 3 AM, cold and naked on the floor. However, much to her pleasure, she noticed the vibrating bottle a mere two feet away from her. This should do me well, she thought. To pardon a pun... Within seconds, she was banging the bottle, and did not notice the miniature explosion within her about halfway through. She figured afterwards she ought to get dressed and find Ron.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
"WHAT!" The Dark Lord shouted at one of his followers. "Potter's Weasley friend did what to my dear Cedric?"
"Er–sir, he, he...er–had anal intercourse with him," a death eater confirmed, cowering in the corner and shaking violently.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort shouted purposefully, sending a flash of green light at the man and hitting him squarely in the chest. "Now then, that is what anyone should get if they deliver foul news. However, if you conceal the truth from me, you shall die, too." He paused, running a cold, pale finger against his chin. "The logic in this is simply that no one shall have foul news to deliver to me at any time, because you should all be doing your jobs so well that there is no need for any mishaps. Not that I should need any logic to explain myself."
"No, my liege!" Came various shouts from the crowd to Voldemort upon his throne.
"Good," Voldemort concluded with confidence. "Very well, then. There is a way we can prevent any further molestation. Diggory can be preserved so long as Potter does not touch him, and to my knowledge, the Weasley boy has been the only one to do so. If we could only retrieve him before Potter touches him, we'd still have a chance. If not..." The Dark Lord's voice trailed off. "There's still another way. Although I implanted sexiness into Cedric Diggory's genome, he is not the only one who displayed the phenotype. Oh, no. Potter's long-time rival, Draco Malfoy, who, as you all know, is now under my orders, also was a candidate for such sexiness, although I had never thought of it. For him, no curse would be needed. We'd simply kill him and extract his sexiness, and hope that it would have the same effects as my more powerful, artificial sexiness derived from Mr Diggory. Perhaps, if we could ensure the sexiness of both boys, my power would be all the greater. Thusly," Voldemort took another pause so that his subjects might grovel before him. "I entrust Severus Snape with my duties."
This time, Severus was at his master's dispense, but his black corneas retracted at his lord's demands. Killing Draco would mean murdering the only boy who'd ever meant anything to him... "Yes, master," he agreed to his best advantage, and spent the night solemnly thinking of ways to avoid his darkest feat.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was the mid-afternoon at Hogwarts, and Hermione was still in her room. Ron assumed that she was preparing for duty, when really, she was hovered over the toilet seat with a Fred and George's Witch pregnancy test. They worked much faster than human ones, you see. And, predictably, it read "positive." How would she explain this to Ron? They hadn't shagged in a good month or so. Although, he probably would never notice either way...
"Hermione! Honestly, we must be on our way," Ron complained, seemingly hurried, when really, he just wanted to reach Hogsmeade by five o'clock to get his happy pills.
"Ron," Hermione sobbed. She burst out of the bathroom door, finally. "Ron, there's somebody I need to see." She whipped her hair around, knocking him unconscious on the ground, and ran for Malfoy's common room.
Before entering his room, she listened to him belt out the Weird Sisters' newest hit, "My Imperio'd Valentine." Sighing gently, she kicked open the door. Magic was so below her.
"Malfoy, we need to talk."
"Granger! I'm not decent!" Malfoy bellowed and subsequently ripped off all of his clothes. "There. Now what were you saying, mudblood?"
"Malfoy, I... I took a pregnancy test this morning, and I believe that you're the father of my future child."
Malfoy stood there flabbergasted. "No! That simply cannot be! I used protection, both wizardly and those of all the muggle means I could think of! And then, afterwards, I performed an abortion on you, just in case! And then, I punched you in your ovaries! And then, I kicked in your uterus! And then, I gave you a tranny operation! This cannot be! Take another test!"
"I've already taken fourteen–"
"I am NOT the father! I want the DNA tested! We're going to Madam Pomfrey right this instant! I will NOT have a half-breed attached to the Malfoy name! I'll kill it! I won't support you at all!" With that, Malfoy dragged a mortified Hermione to the hospital wing, still naked, garnering even more gaping jaws and coos from onlookers. Upon reaching it, he threw Hermione on one of the beds, opened her legs, and pointed. "This is what I want you to test, Pomfrey! Take a look at this whore! See if she's impregnated with my child!" He screamed to an unsuspecting Madame Pomfrey, who was curing a first year of witch-pox.
"Er, yes, just a moment," the frazzled witch nurse affirmed. She walked over to where Hermione lay and did a series of tests. "Oh... oh my! Merlin's beard! I've never seen anything like it!"
"Well, I always knew that my offspring would be unbelievably attractive, no matter the woman, but I never suspected–" Malfoy was cut off.
"This... this is of no human origin! Miss Granger, you are impregnated with a dragon!"
Just as Madame Pomfrey said that, Ron had stumbled into the room, but upon hearing her last word, he turned bright red and stumbled out.
"Wait! Come back, Ron!" Hermione yelled after him, and Peeves happily obliged and brought Ron, kicking and screaming, back into the hospital wing. "Ron, I saw you give that bottle to Malfoy... what was in it?"
"Er... butterbeer?"
"I know that was not butterbeer," Malfoy sputtered.
Ron turned a bright red to match his quidditch robes he wore for confidence. "I... er... I... Charlie... Charlie gave it to me."
"And?" Hermione pressed, now somewhat alarmed.
"And... er... I think... I think it had some," Ron gulped, "Dragon? Things? In it...?" he said quietly in a questioning air.
"YOU GAVE ME A BOTTLE OF DRAGON SEMEN!" Malfoy screamed, clearly enraged. "SECUMSPEC–"
"Prior Incantato," Hermione bellowed, sending the curse back into Malfoy's wand. "Explain yourself," she commanded, glaring at Ron. "Ronniekins." Her brow furrowed once more.
"Well, er.." Ron scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "See, the thing's that... I... Well, dragon... semen... has the power to turn wizards into sort of... sex maniacs, you see? It doesn't harm them when properly ingested, I swear! I just... wanted... well, it was our last night, and I was feeling a bit nostalgic, so..." Ron looked down into his lap.
"You wanted to have homosexual relations with me, Weasel?" Malfoy yelled. "I am not a fag!"
"Well, I mean, everyone knows about you and Snape, and Buckbeak is a bloke too, so I only assumed–"
"How did you know about Buckbeak?" Draco asked, alarmed.
"Well, Hagrid said he saw–"
"You know what? I don't even want to know. This is just too absurd for me. I'm leaving." And with that, Malfoy stormed out the door, still starkers.
Hermione ignored the fact that Ron had just come out of the closet, and Ron ignored the fact that Hermione had somehow masturbated with a bottle of dragon semen.
"Well, Miss Granger, you have three choices. You can either abort the dragon, put it up for adoption, or keep it. We offer various programs at the school to assist you in your choice. Many of your friends have attended such counseling sessions right under your nose. Pansy Parkinson, Cho Chang, Parvati Patil–"
"That's enough, Madame. I'd rather just abort it," Hermione concluded. But Ron had other plans.
"No! You can't do that! Abortion is murder! I'll kill you if you do it!" He screamed.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione uttered, and Ron froze completely. "Yes, please, go ahead with it."
And thus, Hermione's dragon was aborted.