Author's Note:
Everyone who hasn't noticed yet, the genre of this story is humor/romance. Those who have noticed, and are wondering when the romance begins, then the answer is from this chapter forward. :) Enjoy!
Sunshine and rainbows and pink fluffy bunnies to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. :D
Disclaimer: Evething that belongs to J. K. Rowling, like Harry Potter, belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to me.
The Founding Of Pigwarts I – Recipe For Chaos
Chapter 5: Gotcha!
As the night waned on, the supply of the alcohol grew smaller and smaller, and people started to make less and less sense. Ron had tried to take up singing again, Draco had even managed to point his wand at him before a giggling Hermione had snatched it away from him and refused to give it back. Then Harry, the Saviour of Wizardkind once more, had pointed out that it was rather difficult to sing and drink at the same time, even though singing and drinking seemed always to have some kind of link between them. But Ron had believed his friend, and instead taken up poetry, reciting which sounded like love poems to Harry.
This was almost as bad as his singing, for he wasn't too good at poetry and not knowing the correct lines (or any lines at all), he simply made everything up as he went. And even though Ron wasn't as loud as he had been before, Draco decided that if he had to hear one more time 'how the whole wide world reflected from Harry's glasses and how his eyes were green as the grass Ron would love to rest upon or perhaps the waters of distant seas which would cool and soothe his troubled self' he would simply either throw up or kill himself.
Something was poking him into the shoulder. When all his attempts to shoo it away had failed, he finally gave up and turned his head.
"What is it, Granger?" he asked wearily, trying to shoo her away, and failing once again.
"It's nice to lie down in grass or play with the waves of the sea, but it's also nice to sit on the balcony and stare at heavy rain clouds. Grey as liquid silver."
And she gave him a smile which would have qualified as seductive on anyone else. On Granger, it just looked a bit disturbing.
"What?" he asked, trying to move away from her. He did manage that, until there was nothing but solid stone on his one side, and a smiling Hermione still on the other.
"I said our little school will need a staff as well," she spoke, trying to look innocent, and like in everything (save flying a broom and baking cheese-cake) excelling 107 percent.
"Oh," said Draco merely, concluding that he had probably misheard the last time.
"Ok, then, who do you have in mind?"
"Well," Hermione started, giving him that disturbing smile once again. "We all need to teach something as well. And someone can be the headmaster."
"Let me guess, you take Muggle Studies."
"Let me guess," she retorted, her voice even more acid than his, "you take Potions."
"Are you still angry at me because you were every Professor's favourite save Snape, who liked me more?"
"He favoured you only because you were in Slytherin."
"So?"
"That was unfair."
"Yes, it was."
"You mean you admit it?" she asked with surprise.
"That Snape was biased? Of course I admit it. Even a fool would see that."
"Yes, well."
"Besides, I was thinking about taking Arithmancy instead."
"Oh no you don't!" she pointed his wand at him in a way which would have qualified threatening had she not held it the wrong end towards him.
"And why not?" he questioned.
"Because I'm teaching Arithmancy!" she said with iron finality.
"I claimed it first," Draco argued.
"I thought about it first."
"But I spoke it first."
"It was my idea to found the school," she countered.
"It's my Manor the school is founded into."
"I'm the one armed here."
"And you're holding the wand with its tip towards yourself."
Hermione looked down, noticed he was right, and quickly flipped the wand around, managing to drop it and pick up again in the process.
"And I'm the one who came up with the name," Draco added.
"We'll discuss it later," she waved with her right hand, blue and silver sparkles emitting from the wand she was holding.
"Give me that," he went to snatch his wand back, but she moved her hand back. He bent forwards again, but she moved even further away. Losing his patience, Draco lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and trapping her with his weight, rendering her unable to slip away this time. He stretched out his hand to grab the wand when he suddenly realized... well, many things.
Like the fact that he was currently lying on top of her, that she smelled like apples, that he could see stars reflecting from her eyes, that her hot breath sent shivers down his spine, that his other hand was currently against the silky skin of her neck, that she was smiling up at him and he had never seen anything quite that beautiful.
That although getting drunk with intoxicated Gryffidors was perhaps not as bad as he had thought, it sure was dangerous as hell.
That he was going to kiss her right then and there, in the ruins of Hogwarts under the starry sky, in full view of Pothead and Weasel.
That he couldn't care less whether her idiotic friends were going to kill him for that later or not.
He moved his face closer and closer and closer, slowly enough to give her an opportunity to protest, which she didn't.
"Hermione," he whispered gently against her lips.
"Draco," she purred at him. "Promise me you are not going to teach Arithmancy."
He was too caught up in the moment, and the feel of her lips, and her breath, and her soft skin under his palms to fully comprehend what she was asking.
"I promise," he said simply, and kissed her, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of their bodies, and gold and silver sparks from the wand between their now entwined fingers.
"Rose-maiden,
no, I do not quarrel
With
these dear chains, they don't demean.
The
nightingale embushed in laurel,
The
sylvan singers' feathered queen,
Does
she not bear the same sweet plight?
Near
the proud rose's beauty dwelling,
And
with her tender anthems thrilling
The
dusk of a voluptuous night."
"That sounded..." Ron faltered for words, since he couldn't say he had understood the poem very well, but at least it had rhymed.
"...nice," he said at last. "All right, my turn. The last letter was T, so mine has to start with a T. Let's see..."
And so, in the heat of their love poems competition, Harry and Ron failed to notice the passionate kiss taking place right in front of them.
Draco finally pulled away, drawing himself up to a sitting position, with his back against the cool stone.
Oh sweet Salazar, that was one hell of a kiss.
But it was wrong. He wasn't quite sure why it was wrong, since the firewhisky was finally getting to him, but he a vague feeling that he would have never done it without the alcohol. Which really would have been his loss. Which only proved that alcohol was good. Really, really good, he decided, thinking back to the kiss.
"So, Arithmancy is mine," Hermione said matter-of-factly leaning into his side instead of the cold jagged rock.
It took him a moment to realize what she had said, as the school and everything else had left his mind for a while.
"It's mine," he argued, not going to let her get her will just because she could kiss. "I claimed it first."
"But you also promised me you wouldn't teach it," she said sweetly, making doe-eyes at him.
"I never promised..."
Oh. Drat.
He looked down at her and could see the wicked glint in her gaze, also a smirk forming on her lips.
"Gotcha!" she gave him a seductive smile.
Oh sweet Salazar, he had been tricked. By a Gryffindor, no less. If sweet Salazar were still alive, he'd be anything but sweet. To think about it, he wasn't too sweet while dead, either.
Somewhere between his horrifying thoughts, Hermione had decided that it would be much more comfortable to lie down with her head in his lap, and had done exactly that, smiling up at him too cutely to let him be mad at her.
"I'll get Arithmancy, you can have whatever you want, Herbology will go to Neville, he is really good at it. Susan Bones is good at Transfiguration, I know, she turned Colin Creevey into a squirrel once, when he was trying to get a photograph of her kissing Justin. Then Charms... Charms... let me see... Charms goes to... Terry Boot because he can be very charming if he tries to..."
Draco felt a stab of something that was not, was not, was not... ok, something that was jealousy.
"So that leaves Potions, History of Magic, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures," she summed up. "Make your choice before you have been left only Muggle Studies."
"You forgot Divination," Draco said.
Her scowl was the indicator that she had not so much forgotten it but rather conveniently left out from her list, but now that he mentioned it, she didn't protest.
"So, what will you pick?" she asked curiously.
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "Who else do you have in mind?"
"Ginny told me once she likes animals so... she can probably take Magical Creatures. Luna might be talked into taking Astronomy since her name goes together with it nicely. I know Dean wanted to go into professional Quidditch, but perhaps I can convince him otherwise..."
"Why do all the Professors have to be your friends?"
"They're not all Gryffindor," she commented.
"Well, none of them is Slytherin also."
"So, who would you recommend then?" she queried.
"For example, I know that Blaise Zabini is good at Ancient Runes, and Millicent Bulstrode loves Potions. And Daphne Greengrass once predicted the week long absence of Marcus Flint, although I suspect she slipped something nasty into his drink."
"So this leaves you History of Magic or Muggle Studies," Hermione snickered.
Draco frowned. That was not much of a choice.
"Perhaps I can give Flying lessons," he suggested.
"That's it!" she exclaimed and lifted her finger into the air triumphantly, raising her head from his lap much to his dislike.
"What's it?" he asked carefully when she rearranged her position, sitting now with crossed feet in front of him, practically beaming with joy.
"We need more subjects for our school than just those," she explained. "We should have some others too, like Muggles have. PE, for example."
"Pee?" he made a disgusted face. "I knew Muggles were savages, but to teach something like that at school..."
"No, you git," she hit his arm none too gently. "Not pee, P.E. Physical Education. It's doing sports. Running and playing games and swimming and things like that."
"Well, you really are great in acronyms," he sneered at her, trying to disguise his embarrassment, even thought there was no need, for who in their right mind would call sports like that. "First spew, and now pee."
"It's not my creation," she huffed indignantly. "But we can call it Sports here, if that makes you happy."
"Very," he snapped back.
"So we can teach Flying and Quidditch in Sports. And then we could have Music lesson and form our own choir," she spoke with way too much enthusiasm.
"And who is going to do that?"
"Well, believe it or not, Grawp can actually sing pretty nicely."
Draco shuddered. He had had the pleasure of meeting Hagrid's baby brother, unfortunately.
"If Grawp can sing, then Crabbe knows everything."
"Deal," Hermione said quickly.
"What?"
"Well, we do need a History of Magic teacher. And since Grawp can really sing, I guess Crabbe will get the job."
Draco frowned. He really shouldn't have said that. But then again, it was not possible to have a teacher worse than Binns. Or Grawp for that matter.
"I have a better deal for you, Granger," he said suddenly, his tone turning smooth and sly.
"What?" she asked warily.
"I'll let you pick a subject for me, if I get to choose one for you."
"But... I have Arithmancy."
"Sure you are capable of taking an extra subject?"
"Of course, but..."
"Scared?" he grinned.
"Never. You're on, Malfoy."
"Great. Because you are the next Flying and Quidditch Professor!" he announced with a smirk.
"But I hate to fly," she wailed.
"Too bad for you," he laughed haughtily at her.
"Fine," Hermione grinned back.
Draco did not like her expression one bit. It meant trouble. For him.
"And you, Draco darling, will be our new Muggle Studies Professor."
A/N: The poem is by Aleksandr Pushkin. And yes, it is probably way too difficult for a drunk person to recite, but I'm way too lazy for my own good, so let's just pretend Harry has some hidden talents. ;)
And if someone wonders why they simply don't ask Hogwarts' teachers to teach at Pigwarts, then it's because I decided they are all dead. Or if that sounds too cruel then they are all enjoying their retirement in Aruba. Or Hawaii. Or Saaremaa.
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