Chapter 34:

The Culmination of Plots

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Draco Malfoy inspected the correspondance with all the seriousness required for the current situation. He held it near-reverently, its frayed edges delicately pinched and straightened. The paper seemed to mumur its gratitude for the gentle care, rustling ever so in the slight breeze. Draco felt moderately creeped out at the thought.

Nevertheless, the paper deserved all the attention he could spare, even if it seemed to have a bit of a crush on him- though really, who could blame it? Draco was simply too…well- himself- to be anything but admired with a passion.

That what's-it Third Year's scribbled handwriting stared up at him, mocking his squinted eyes, and Draco cursed the little bastard for his noticable lack of an aristocratic nature. Peasant…

"Lock them in a closet? So that's their game…" Draco whispered into the empty room once he had finished translating the note from his little spy. The Slytherin cracked a small smile knowing that his original plan would not be greatly affected. A closet? What amateurs! Though…the things he could do to his very own red-head in one of said closets… A shudder ran through him, and he fought to stay focused.

'So- if DIVIDE AND CONQUER is still available…' Draco smirked in delight, and readied a quill and parchment.

Pot-Head and Divine Creature,

The short kid from Hufflepuff and the two harpies in your House are hatching a scheme that involves a certain couple and one of the castle's many closets. I'm sure you might have noticed the disadvantage this would give us in pursuing our common goals. I would like to suggest a slightly revised plan at our next meeting-

"Oi- Malfoy!"

"Darling!"

Ron winced and took a step behind Harry, hoping the shorter boy would be able to shield his as-of-yet untouched body. With that thought, he took a moment to allow some self-pity and shudder.

Harry seemed to get the idea and headed off the blond with an arm. "Can we get down to business?" The Slytherin frowned, but eventually gave in with a huff of breath. As all three paced in front of the hidden door to the Room of Requirement, Ron made sure to focus extra hard on what they needed, to make up for whatever perverted scheme was going through Malfoy's head.

"Well," Draco started, taking up his position as leader (for for else was so suited to the position? Ohohoho!) at the front of the room. "I suppose you both received my letter."

"Please, Malfoy," Harry deadpanned.

"All right all ready!" Draco took a moment to compose himself. "The plan this time is simple: when the Hufflepuff and the two bints attempt to lock our targets in a closet together- no doubt to achieve carnal and emotional satisfaction between the two ("What?!" Ron sputtered.)- we will be waiting in the sidelines! And here is the climax: We let them of the closet!"

"…"

Ron was the one to finally break the uncomfortable silence: "So that's all?"

Sneering, even if it was at his Lovely, Draco crossed his arms across his chest. "No," he bit out defensively. "After doing that we just keep them away from each other. Their feelings should die out soon after."

Harry, who had been contemplating this Master Devious Plan to himself, interjected thoughtfully, "We won't be able to do that on our own. We can't be with Hermione every second, you know."

"I know, Pothead!" Draco was panting harshly from his yell. "We need reqruits, that's all."

"Right…" Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but unfortunately, his friend was still occupied in avoiding the blond who was sidling up to him. "And who are we supposed to get?"

Draco snarled as he was interrupted in mid-Weasley hug, "Don't make me do all the work around here! Can you think for yourself- or is that out of your ability range?!"

"Fine," Harry returned, grabbing Ron and turning toward the door. "Let's go, Ron."

Ron merely whimpered as Draco dug in his nails.

"Well, well- If it isn't little…ah-" Draco floundered for a moment before finally snapping his fingers at Theodore. "Name?" he questioned with a snarl.

Theodore gave a wry smile in return, and consulted his records- a composition notebook having seen better (Malfoy-free) days- and scoured it with the ease that could only come with much practice.

"Ian Flemming," he finally supplied, spotting the name under "Hufflepuff", "First Year", and "Pathetic Sniveling Twit", along with a few notes on his appearance (short, mousy, perpetually quivering in fear) to separate him from the some dozen other names matching those categories.

"Right. Flemming-whatever…" Draco smirked as the First Year quaked in fear. "I have a little job for you."

Ian Flemming was concerned, to say the least. He hoped the Universe would not crash down with Draco Malfoy's evil, devious plot coming to fruition, but felt there was nothing he could do to avoid the beating he would get should he have refused Malfoy's…erm- proposal.

With a squeak he entered the Library, flailing around uselessly until a sharp glance from Madam Pince had him cowering, once more, in fear. The woman seemed to see he would be traumatized shortly and pulled back, barking a short "Get moving!" to clear him away from her desk and latest romance novel.

Ian complied, scurrying into the center of the room, and moving even more quickly once he saw his target at a table surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. The bushy head bobbed over a quill and parchment, and Ian felt almost guilty for disturbing the obviously productive girl. Oh well- it had to be done.

"H-Hermione!"

"Hmm?"

Ian mouth almost (almost!) dropped open in surprise- she didn't even look up! "U-um…Hermione? I w-was wondering if…if you'd be willing to tutor me?"

The girl finally glanced up, cocking a brow in question as she noted the small boy wasn't from her House. "Wouldn't you rather go to own of your own Housemates?" she ventured.

"They're…um," Ian mumbled, cursing himself inwardly- Of course, she would ask this! Why wasn't he prepared?! "They're much too busy to help me now."

"Well," Hermione said, mentally calculating her schedule, "I suppose I could give you some help. We'll meet here- let's say, tonight at seven?"

"Yes! Thank you!"

"No trouble at all."

As Ian left the Prefect to her studies, he recalled that he actually was doing awfully in Transfiguration.

Ernie cackled to himself (and his captive audience of stuffed animals) as made plans for that night. Those two wouldn't know what hit them! Soon, the castle would be full of miniature Hermione-Blaises and Ernie would be free to snog his own boyfriend. Mm…lovely boy.
Blaise surveyed the room, and the blond in it, with suspicion. All of Slytherin had been acting rather peculiar that day- he knew it could only stem from one person.

"Draco," he bit out harshly. "What the hell is going on?"

The blond raised watery eyes to him, and Blaise cursed that he actually felt the remote emotion of pity rising up in his blood. "What's happening?" he repeated again, more gently.

Draco chewed on his lip viciously, before breaking out into real tears. "It's- It's my Weasel!"

Blaise considered asking if said weasel had been run over by a car, but ceased that thought as he recalled the Weasel was actually a person. These things were so difficult to keep track of.

"Yes?" Blaise prompted.

"He- I saw him s-snogging Granger!"

Blaise wondered if he was having some sort of attack- his heart was pounding so quickly it felt as if it would burst from his chest. "What?"

"In the C-Charms corridor after their class. I went… t-to see my Weasley and ask- ask him to H-Hogsmeade again, because he- he said no last time I did and I wanted to-"

Realizing the other was babbling, Blaise wrapped a comforting arm around the blond- he always did take crushes so seriously. "It'll be alright, Draco. You'll find someone else."

"N-no! There's no one else!" Draco cemented his performance into place with his trademark Clingy-Heartbroken-Best-Friend move- in a neat twist of limbs, he burrowed into his friends chest, forcing the arms to encircle him. Draco made sure to jolt his body with sobbing movements, and pinched his cheeks harshly to draw out more tears (though the first ones had been hard enough to come by)- hopefully a large enough amount that Blaise would be able to feel the moisture seep through his shirt.

It was classic. It was genius. It was as per usual for Draco Malfoy.

Just and beat that, Pothead, Draco anounced smugly to himself.

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