The Arrangement
Chapter 4
"That's not exactly asking nicely, Ferret." Harry Potter said, exasperated. Malfoy was being even more of a git than usual. Harry paused, wondering if it were even possible. He regarded the sneering blonde boy in front of him and decided it was. Ever since Hermione and Draco had started to openly date, Malfoy alternated between being extra gitty towards the two boys to playing their best bud to get favors. Today, it seemed, he couldn't decide between the two and was bouncing back and forth.
Malfoy pouted petulantly. Harry felt compelled to do a bit of vomiting. "Come on! You two really like it when Hermione's happy, right? Well with my Spectacular Plan of Action, I guarantee her unending happiness for the next fifteen years. And then upon the waning of her happiness at the end of aforementioned fifteen years, I will proceed to grow my beautiful, luscious, pureblooded hair so her love (and of course the happiness that accompanies such love) will be renewed. After that—"
"Look, Malfoy, as well thought out your…" Ron shuddered. "…future with her may be, we don't want to get in the middle of this. We value our lives, you see."
Malfoy's mouth dropped. Harry gave him a look that said he should feel sorry, but he didn't really feel sorry. "If you wanted to keep her happy, Malfoy, you shouldn't have become engaged to Pansy. Dug yourself in quite a hole there."
"But Weasel, Potty! I need your help! She's going around being friends with everyone but me! She was even seen talking to Parkinson of all people!" Malfoy began to pace. Harry and Ron watched his progress. It was a nice spring day, Harry supposed as a leaf trapped in his collar tickled his neck. Malfoy had grabbed the two boys on their way back from Quidditch practice and, using a quick incarcerous, bound them to a nearby tree. Harry hoped the tree wasn't the malicious type. It would be just like Malfoy to bind them to a tree that slowly and silently murders those that come into contact with it.
While Harry wouldn't put it past the Slytherin boy to be a git, he doubted that the boy was in the proper state of mind for anything really bad. For one, his hair wasn't styled, his clothes were wrinkled, his shirt untucked, his green and silver tie shoved unceremoniously into his shirt pocket, his shoes didn't match, and he was wearing neither blazer nor vest. Draco Malfoy was a mess. Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the idiot. Not that he would help him or approved of the situation or anything like that. Nevertheless, Harry knew Malfoy was gone off his rocker mad about Hermione and secretly offered his sympathy.
Harry briefly wondered how Ron was feeling, having Hermione's boyfriend (ex? Harry didn't know; Hermione never talked about it) ask them for help on getting her back. While Ron did spend some months thinking he was heartbroken and fighting with Hermione and threatening to Avada her boyfriend, he had gotten over it (the fact that he had gotten under a new girl helped tremendously, but they don't tell Hermione about that chapter in Ron's Months of Mourning). Still, Harry mused silently, he was never really okay with the idea of the two.
"Let us go already! I'm starved." Ron whined. "We're not going to help you and holding us here against our will is…it's really wrong!" Harry smirked, Ron having unknowingly answered his thoughts.
Malfoy stopped pacing and glared at them both. "I'm not letting you two go until you agree to help! You don't even need to do much; just lure her to our room where I shall be waiting, trap her, and then I woo the fuck out of her!"
Harry made a disgusted face. "Er, we don't need to hear about your…wooing skills, thank you."
"I think I'm going to be sick." True enough, Ron looked paler than usual.
Malfoy grunted and threw his arms up in frustration. "PLEASE!" Harry and Ron stared at him, wide eyed. Draco Malfoy had said please. Malfoy pressed on. "Please." Harry felt wholly uncomfortable with the softness in Malfoy's voice. He feared the Slytherin would start crying. True enough, the boy's nose was quickly turning red. Fuck. He wondered how long it would take for him to chew his arms off.
"Um…." Ron made a move to scratch his head, but was prevented from doing so by his bindings. He settled for looking awkwardly at his feet. "She's not angry, you know."
Malfoy paused. "What was that?"
Ron looked as if he would rather vomit a slug than keep speaking, but he pressed on. Harry wondered which curse Hermione would use on them once she found out they spoke to Malfoy. He then wondered if it was worth it. He elbowed Ron to prompt him. "She's hurt, is all. And she hates that you've made her feel all...sad and everything, so she's kind of using you as an emotional punching bag. You noticed that she's really stubborn so it's not going to be easy or anything…" Ron trailed off, ears matching his hair.
"Oh." Malfoy looked thoughtful. "So you'll help?"
Harry exchanged a look with his best friend, who shook his head in response. He looked back at Malfoy. "No. That was all the help we're willing to give you."
Malfoy's eyes suddenly looked shinier than usual. "I'm desecrating my family's reputation by asking this of you. I'm-" His voice caught. "I'm begging." As if just realizing what he said, he blanched. "I'm begging a dirt-poor blood-traitor and the saint of all muggle lovers and half-breeds. What has my life come to?" Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and muttered a finite incantantum their way.
"Malfoy," Harry began.
Malfoy shook his head and walked back towards the castle. Harry and Ron exchanged incredulous looks.
"Blimey, the git actually loves her." Ron said, awed.
Sara Cavanaugh, Gryffindor sixth year, was crouched behind a suit of armor in a corridor near the Great Hall. Across the hall, crouched behind another suit of armor (why did Hogwarts even have so many?) was her best friend forever, Kaelan Schmidt. They gave each other the thumbs up and pulled out their wands. The corridor was empty save for them, and they fought back giggles as they awaited their prey.
She consulted the schedule scribbled on scrap parchment for the fifth time that minute. According to her sources (Colin Creevey), Hermione should have been headed in their direction five minutes ago. Sara and Kaelan exchanged panicked expressions. Either she was late or Colin was wrong.
She felt bad for Kaelan, crouching there all scared and nervous. Sara had to admit it was kind of scary, the idea of kidnapping the Head Girl and locking her in a romantic room of romance with the Head Boy for the night, but it had to be done. Hermione had been sleeping in their dorm the past week and the sixth year girls (except for Ginny, weirdo extraordinaire, of course) were fed up! They were forced to sleep early, keep their voices down, and each time one of them receives new WonderWitch products, they get confiscated! Zenny Williams had her pimple vanisher taken away, much to the chagrin of the other girls, and now sported a giant boil on her nose and an assortment of acne on her cheeks. It was really unfortunate. This is why Sara and Kaelan had taken it upon themselves to save the day! Once the Head Girl falls back in love with the Head Boy, she'll finally leave them in peace.
Sara gave a little squeal at the excitement bubbling in her chest.
To Miss Pansy Parkinson,
The Wizarding World is in an uproar at the thought of the Great and Illustrious and Utterly Handsome Draco Malfoy marrying the likes of you. It would be in your best interests to discreetly call off your engagement and marry someone else. We, the Wizarding World, suggest Gregory Goyle.
Best wishes,
Anonymous
P.S. To make an attempt at discerning my identity would be futile. So don't try it.
o0o0o
My Deerest Pansy,
Is me, Greg. I M vary hert-broken to heer dat yoo R merrying Malfoy. I kno dat he is so much batter looking den me, but I can luv yoo. I hav luved yoo sense we met all dos yeers ago. Malfoy, wit all of his grate hair and compleckshun, dos not luv yoo. If yoo wood merry me, I will giv yoo yor own gardin.
Luv forever,
Yor Greggie-poo
o0o0o
Draco Malfoy—
Never have the women in my family married for love. It's never happened before and it's not happening now. Stop being a child and accept that we're to be wed. Granger can be your mistress or what have you. I don't care.
- Mrs. Pansy Malfoy
P.S. Our honeymoon will be in France. You don't need to be there.
Draco was brooding as he headed towards the Great Hall. Following his failed attempt at garnering sympathy from Saint Potter and the Weasel, he had written Pansy Parkinson letters in hopes of persuading her against their engagement. She had refused. Furious, he stormed to the Slytherin common room and left her a note on her bed offering her money. Of course he'd have to part with a few million in gold, but what was fortune without his Hermione?
He stopped in his tracks at the thought. "Merlin's bloomers, I've gone mental." He whispered to himself. He looked at his hands in shock, as if waiting to see if they'd change shape or color. Perhaps he was sick; running a small fever and needed some bed rest. Draco dug into his robes for his wand to summon a thermometer. "Where the bloody hell is my wa—"
"ATTACK!" And that was the last thing he heard before all went black.
A/N: Hey all! I'm so sorry for the late late late update. I've recently started university and I've been so caught up in the newness of it all that I've neglected to update. No worries, there's not much left of this story. (The next chapter is the end!) See you then! :)