Chapter Sixteen
Seven Years of Pent-Up Anger
Harry and Ron came by bright and early on Sunday morning, along with Ginny, who'd been filled in on the previous days' events and expressed her deepest regrets about missing the whole thing. Oliver also arrived, feeling obligated to check on Hermione's well-being—although thankfully the twins had already left to go visit other friends, and as such weren't there to try and get either Hermione or Oliver to talk. Draco's head was almost back to normal, though he was covered in globs of congealed pink potion and thoroughly grouchy.
"I brought you a spare change of clothes," Ginny told Hermione cheerfully, holding out a skirt that Hermione never wore (because of how short it was) and a low-cut, tight sweater, along with a bra, underwear, socks and robes. Hermione rolled her eyes but accepted them without complaint, and they turned to figuring out how to Draco and Hermione were going to shower in the hospital wing's bathroom.
Showering was even worse for Hermione than it had been during her first night chained to Draco; Draco kept involuntarily floating up to the ceiling, which meant he could see over the curtain, so he had to be watched carefully by Harry, Ron, and—of all people—Oliver, who, as a teacher, was given the task by Madam Pomfrey while she tended to a fourth-year whose legs were covered in large green blotches. Hermione showered as fast as possible, constantly glancing up to make sure Draco wasn't looking in on her and nervously watching the edges of the curtain, embarrassed about having Harry, Ron and Oliver there. By the time she was ready to come out, Ginny had gotten the bright idea to temporarily blind Draco (which, needless to say, he wasn't happy about, but he couldn't do anything, as Oliver approved the idea) and then banish the other guys from the room so Hermione could towel off and get dressed. Even with Draco unable to see and Harry, Ron and Oliver gone, Hermione threw on her clothes in record time, even deciding to forego wearing robes (which she later regretted, given the stylish, skin-showing outfit Ginny had picked out).
Hermione was forced to let Ginny toy with her hair, as it was completely unmanageable from not showering the night before and from having to be blown dry. By the time Ginny got her hair dry and the two of them could agree on a style (two braids, which was simple enough for Hermione but looked cute enough for Ginny), Draco's head was regularly sized once more and he was able to scrub off the last of the antidote in the shower. He was thoroughly pissed that Ginny had gone through his trunk in order to bring him fresh clothes, but as there hadn't been any way for him to get clothing without showing off his pink head to half the students at Hogwarts and Ginny completely ignored his ranting, he soon gave up on berating her and showered quickly.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco left the hospital wing, dropped off Draco and Hermione's belongings, and headed down to breakfast, saying good-bye to Oliver, who muttered something about grading papers and hurried off to his office. Along the way to the Great Hall, they found the twins, who were on the third floor, cordially greeting Peeves, who had abandoned his pursuit of terrorizing some second years in favor of reuniting with his fellow pranksters.
"Miss you, I do," Peeves said sadly. "No one else appreciates the art of mischief the way you did."
"Don't worry, Peeves, before we go we'll pick out a nice, promising first year and train them in the ways of the practical joker," Fred promised solemnly before the twins followed Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco down to breakfast.
They all chatted away during breakfast, except for Draco, who, apart from being sulky, was rather sleep deprived (it isn't easy to sleep with an enlarged, floating head, you know). Hermione dug out the schedule she'd gotten from Oliver; not much of it had changed, really. The sixth and seventh years had fewer classes, as they were permitted to drop courses, and as such most of the classes had students from all four houses instead of just one or two, save Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration, which were arguably the three most important courses, and few people had dropped them because of the war. Hermione had already been taking Potions, Arithmancy, Charms and Herbology with Draco, and they both had dropped History of Magic and Astronomy, so it only took a little rearranging to make sure that they could make all of their classes. She would still get to spend most of her regular classes with Harry and Ron, who were in six of her eight classes, and would only have to split up with them during Transfiguration, which she was now attending with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs so that she could attend Draco's Muggle Studies.
After breakfast, they went down to Hagrid's hut (after threatening Draco until he followed them sullenly), Ron staring morosely at Pig, who was currently six-and-a-half feet tall, fully owl and as hyperactive as ever (judging by the way he flapped his wings and attempting to "affectionately nip" Draco, who panicked and nearly wet himself. Draco behaved himself as they chatted with Hagrid until lunch time, only letting out the occasional snort or laugh; he actually seemed rather interested in the interior of Hagrid's hut, having only been in there once (and having been rather distracted at the time, as he was hiding from some of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts with the majority of the fourth-year Care of Magical Creatures class). Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco eventually made their way back to the castle for lunch, and Hermione was just reflecting on how nice and incident-free the day had been (if you didn't count the whispers and stares she'd received during breakfast, thanks to Draco and the rumors) when they reached the Great Hall entrance and stopped dead. While plenty of students were sitting at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, both the Slytherin and staff tables were entirely empty.
"Run!" Hermione yelled, certain that there was about to be some horrible school-wide prank and that the Slytherins had somehow managed to keep the staff away.
Harry, Ron, and Draco turned right around with her, thinking the same thing, but neither twin moved and Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm.
"Don't be ridiculous, Herm," she said calmly. "Either the entire Slytherin house is getting a stern talking-to, or someone did something to their dormitory—or them—and the staff has gone to sort it out."
"Yeah, that's what I'd say," Fred said, giving the hall a critical look as though checking for hidden traps.
"Me too—if they were going to do something to the hall, they'd want to be here to see it," George added.
"Are you sure?" Hermione said uncertainly.
"Hey, if anyone would know, it would be us," Fred assured her, and they went inside to eat. A good portion of the Gryffindor table seemed to have been reserved for them, as no one else in Gryffindor really wanted the pleasure of sitting next to Draco Malfoy.
Lavender and Parvati approached them after they'd sat down, however, both smiling brightly at Hermione, who had to bite back a groan. Whenever there was a rumor about Hermione, Lavender and Parvati had a tendency to get her alone and gang up on her, and had apparently realized that they weren't going to be able to do so until Hermione was sharing a dormitory with them again.
"Hi, Hermione," Lavender said sweetly. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks, you?" Hermione responded coolly, hoping they'd go away soon enough.
"Good," Parvati said. Lavender nodded. "Did you hear about the Slytherins, Hermione? Someone's booby-trapped their dormitory; they can't get in or out without sprouting red and gold fur all over their bodies."
Fred and George both began whistling innocently, grinning as they did so. Hermione shot them an amused look while Harry, Ron and Ginny giggled and Draco glared.
"The teachers are all down there trying to fix it," Lavender added. "At least, according to rumor, they are." She gave Hermione a significant look.
"Shouldn't Dumbledore be able to fix that pretty easily?" Harry asked, frowning.
"He should be able to, but they caught another fugitive Death Eater—"
"Who?" everyone demanded at once.
"Someone named Mulciber," Lavender said indifferently. "Anyway, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore felt obligated to go to the Ministry and talk to some of the people there."
"Do you know who caught him?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, it was some female Auror with a funny name—Nympha-something To—"
"Thanks for the update, Lav," Hermione interrupted, knowing Lavender hated that nickname and hoping that using it would get Lavender to get to the point. Hermione was interested in Mulciber's capture, but they had more reliable sources than Lavender and Parvati for that sort of information. More importantly, Hermione wasn't sure it was a good idea to let Draco hear such information.
"You're welcome… we've, um, heard a few rumors about you, too, Hermione," Parvati ventured carefully.
"If they have anything to do with a tattoo or Snape, they're false," she said irritably.
Lavender and Parvati looked like they wanted to say more, but figured that Harry, Ron, and Ginny (all of whom had stony looks on their faces) wouldn't allow them to annoy Hermione into giving any more answers, and the two girls left, disappointed. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I will be so glad when I don't have to share a dormitory with them anymore," she said.
"What rumors about Snape and tattoos were they talking about?" Ron asked, confused. He hadn't been in the room when Draco had brought up the hickeys, and he hadn't been in the common room when Draco had mentioned the tattoo, and, having spent the previous day mostly alone or in the hospital wing with Hermione, he had yet to hear anything about it.
"The one about the tattoo on Hermione's butt," Fred said promptly, unaware of Ron's ignorance in the matter. Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice, her eyes wide.
"Duh, Ron, what other tattoo would they be talking about?" George said.
"What tattoo on Hermione's butt?" Ron demanded.
"Oh, where have you been, Weasley?" Draco said, jumping into the conversation with relish. "Everyone in school knows about that, thanks to me. Although I do believe Wood and the Little Weasel already knew." He watched with glee as Ron's neck and ears went red. "I suppose Potter, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber are the only ones who've gotten the full story on it, though."
"Excuse me?" Ron said, glaring around at Fred, George, Harry, Ginny and Hermione.
"Don't worry, Weasel," Draco added, making sure to get one last comment in to piss Ron off. "She's kept everyone in the dark about the hickeys Snape put on her neck, so don't feel too left out."
Ron's eyes widened and a look of such utter rage came over his features that Hermione scooted away from him slightly. Without another word, Ron jumped up and stormed angrily from the hall.
"I'll go talk to him," Harry and Ginny said in unison, both jumping up.
"We'll come, too," Fred and George added quickly, realizing their mistake and knowing that their only chance of survival was to run for it, but Harry put a hand on each of their shoulders and forced them back into their seats.
"Oh, no, you won't," Harry said firmly. "You're going to stay here and face Hermione's wrath." Harry turned and ran to catch up with Ginny, who was hot on Ron's heels.
"We're really sorry, Hermione," Fred said desperately as the furious look on her face grew to resemble Ron's.
"We didn't know he didn't know," George added.
"We wouldn't have mentioned it if we did."
"Yeah, we wouldn't do that."
"Honest!"
If they hadn't added that word, Hermione probably could have calmed herself down. However, "honest" was the word that Snape had used when waving a tequila bottle at Draco, which had gotten Ginny thinking that Draco thought Hermione had had sex with Snape, which had probably given Harry the idea to make Malfoy think Hermione had had sex with Snape. If that hadn't happened, Hermione never would have let Snape put hickeys on her neck, which had not only been disturbing but was probably about to ruin her relationship with Ron, who could have gotten over the tattoo but would probably never forgive her for something like what she'd done with Snape, which he would never understand. Therefore, Hermione's status as a taken woman was about to be in serious jeopardy, and all because of the word "honest" and, in part, because of the Weasley twins.
"We wouldn't do that to our brother, or you, we mean it!" Fred insisted as Hermione's black expression darkened even more.
It might be a good idea to note that Hermione's brain could be compared to an office building. One part of her brain was devoted purely to information, filled metaphorically with filing cabinets and manned by a less emotional version of herself. So it wasn't that Hermione didn't hear the Weasley twins' pleas, it was simply that she couldn't be bothering with listening at the moment. As such, the comments were filed away in a little folder marked "Weasley Twins" and stored in the cabinet labeled "People to Eventually Forgive," right in between "Cornelius Fudge" and "The Guy Who Invented High Heels."
Fred and George saw Hermione go for her wand and both quickly waved their own before shouting "Protegara!" which the information-devoted part of Hermione's brain recognized as a highly advanced, complex Shield Charm that blocked out the majority of unfriendly spells for a good five minutes and had been taught to Fred and George by the Order of the Phoenix when the twins had left school and joined up. She turned to the "logic and strategy" area of her mind and realized that the spell only blocked curses—not sharp instruments.
Hermione reached for her fork and knife—and found only spoons next to all of the plates within six feet of hers. She'd been so busy glaring at the twins that she hadn't noticed that, in anticipation of just such a reaction, they'd stolen every fork, knife and serving utensil in the immediate area.
Spoons are weapons too! exclaimed the strategic part of Hermione, and she picked hers up, glancing around for ammunition, determined to get Fred and George, even if she had to do it Muggle-style.
Ah-ha! Mashed potatoes! Standing and scooping up a heaping spoonful of the delicious potatoes (no doubt made with slave elf labor, which made her even angrier), Hermione aimed the potato-side of the spoon at Fred (he had to die first, as he'd said the evil word "honest"), drew back the tip until her spoon was bent at roughly a forty-five degree angle, and let go. With a faint ping! the mashed potatoes went soaring through the air, through the invisible magical barrier surrounding Fred, and splattered on his forehead. While Fred was still trying to process this event through his shock, another glob of potatoes smacked George in the face, and then, quite suddenly, Hermione's logical side, only slightly warped by fury, cut through again.
This is all Malfoy's fault.
And so a third, much larger scoop of mashed potatoes smacked the laughing Draco Malfoy full in the face.
Draco froze, stunned, a look of disbelief on his face, as though he was completely unable to fathom that anyone would dare fire a lump of potatoes at him. The look on his face seemed to satisfy her anger somewhat, because she smiled as she stared coldly down at him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Draco turned to look at her, his face utterly blank. And suddenly, every horrible thing that had happened to him over the past two months came bubbling to the surface. Snape, the only teacher who liked him, staring at Draco the way Snape stared at Potter, furious. Snape, supposedly shagging Granger. Granger, undressing Draco and putting him in women's underwear. Ernie Macmillan, pointing his Quidditch team off in different directions to make sure everyone knew Draco was tied to the goalpost. Snape, telling lies for Weasley and Granger. Draco waking up floating over the lake, staring down at the tentacles of the giant squid, completely covered in red and gold stripes. Draco walking into the dormitory and getting hit by flying chimp feces, being bitten viciously on the arm by the chimp itself before racing from the dormitory. The Bludger that hit Crabbe, causing Draco to be crushed between Crabbe's enormous body and the ground. Then, the duel between Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. He'd been looking forward to seeing someone else give Weasley hell—and the next thing he knew, he was chained to Granger. Sharing a room with Granger and Potter, having his head inflated, being called a Death Eater, the fistfight, the petrifaction, the—
With a strangled yell, Draco's arm shot out, grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and threw the contents at Hermione's face. She winced, wiped her eyes, picked up the entire bowl of mashed potatoes, and smashed the food into his face like a clown would a pie. Even as she took the bowl away, leaving a mashed potato mask on his face, Draco was squeezing a bottle of mustard at her, squirting quite a bit on her leg (he couldn't aim too well, thanks to the potatoes) until Hermione snatched the bottle and returned the favor. Wiping the potatoes out of his eye area, Draco turned away, his arms up for protection, and looked around for something messy. There, about two feet out of his reach, was a bowl of beef stew.
Draco jumped up and dove across the table, Hermione taking the opportunity to unscrew the lid on the mustard and dump the rest of the contents on his head. Fred was pushing the bowl of beef stew farther away, so Draco leaped on the table and snatched the bowl. He turned around to toss it at Hermione, but found she was already behind him, standing on the table and holding a dish filled with Buffalo wings. She overturned it on him, the bones smacking him and the sauce leaving little reddish-brown stains wherever they hit.
"GO HERMIONE!" yelled Neville Longbottom from down the table.
"GET HIM!" shouted Ernie from the Hufflepuff table.
"Hermione, catch!" called Anthony Goldstein, and in a move that would have made Harry proud, Hermione caught a bottle of honey thrown by the Ravenclaw prefect. She quickly dropped it, however, when a wave of hot beef stew went flying at her; she only just turned her back in time.
"I've got ten Galleons on Mione to win!" Fred yelled, mashed potatoes still clinging to his forehead. He and George had long since abandoned the table in an attempt to save themselves.
Hermione retrieved the bottle of honey, yanked the chain to pull him over onto his back, put her foot on Draco's chest to hold him down, and began to pour. Draco grabbed her ankle and tugged, causing Hermione to lose her balance and land hard on the table. His arm was jerked forwards as she fell and he quickly sat up to avoid any unnecessary pain—then saw a bowl of ice, set out for those who preferred iced pumpkin juice, just past her head. He hopped up and ran for the bowl, only to have his legs knocked out from under him by Hermione. He landed on his back, his head right by her knees… and an idea struck him just as she prepared to stand.
Hermione suddenly found Draco sitting on her stomach, his legs pinning her arms down to her sides, his fingers groping at her knees and tickling. Hermione burst out laughing, struggling to get out from under him. "I'll teach you to piss me off!" Draco yelled, as though he was torturing her in the worst way possible, rather than tickling her.
"Go for the eyes, Mione!" George shouted.
Hermione did just that, her legs flying up and smashing Draco in the face, knocking him back on top of her and giving her the chance to push him off. She rolled over and knelt on his back to keep him down. Colin and Dennis Creevey shoved a platter of pork chops down the table to her, and she grabbed a fistful of them, holding tight to keep from dropping them, dripping mushroom cream sauce all over Draco's back as she moved towards his collar. Draco writhed, his attempts to dislodge her becoming more and more violent as she shoved pork chop after pork chop down the back of his shirt. Eventually she jumped off, standing at the ready as Draco got up, flinging the last two pork chops at him and watching them momentarily stick to him before flopping off.
Unfortunately, she was now out of weapons. Draco knew he needed every second to get one up on her, and, rather than remove the pork chops from his shirt, he dove for the closest bowls that hadn't been destroyed by their little tickle/pork chop fight—a bowl of cherries and another two of sugar.
Hermione went for the sugar at the same time, but only managed to grab the white sugar; Draco still had the brown. He seized the front of her shirt, pouring both cherries and sugar down it. Hermione squealed at the thoroughly odd feeling and, seeing her guard was down, Draco snatched the white sugar from her. She just had time to squeeze her eyes shut as an explosion of sugar hit her, sticking to the pumpkin juice on her face and hair from Draco's original attack.
"BOOOOO!" shouted Fred, and many of the students booed along with him.
"Go for the hair, Mione! Go for the hair!" George yelled.
Saving that idea for later, Hermione went for the ketchup instead. Draco saw it coming and was able to duck, the ketchup squirting all over his already-stained back. He started running along the now-empty table, Hermione chasing him. (By now, the Gryffindors had all abandoned their plates, fearful of getting caught in the crossfire, and were standing by the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, snacking absently on the other houses' food while they cheered for Hermione.) Hermione stopped dead, however, when she saw Draco swoop down and lift up a dish of tuna salad.
"This is for Snape!" he yelled, flinging it at her head. Hermione ducked, the lip of the bowl grazing her sugar-coated hair, a narrow miss. She reached down and grabbed a bowl of egg salad; its contents splattered against his hip.
"No, THIS is for Snape!" Hermione countered, feeling that if anyone had any right to be angry about anything involving Snape, it was her.
"This is for Potter!" Draco sent an apple flying at her head.
"OW! This is for Ron!" Hermione replied with an orange.
"OW! This is for the goalpost!" A pear.
"OW! This is for the Vanishing Spell!" A grapefruit.
"OW! This is for that Quidditch game!" A fistful of blackberries.
"EW!" Hermione complained as they exploded against her. She picked up someone's abandoned plate of spaghetti. "This is for that illusion spell!"
"Ha-ha! That was a good one—UGH!" Noodles and meat sauce clung to Draco's torso and he reached for the creamed corn. "This is for hovering me over the giant squid!"
"Oh, that was so much—ACK!" The corn splattered against her stomach. "This is for looking down my shirt!"
"KILL HIM, MIONE!" Fred cut in from the sidelines, waving around a chicken leg he'd pilfered from the Ravenclaw table for emphasis.
Suddenly the impromptu food fight was just a way for the two of them to take out the past few months—hell, the last seven years' worth of pent-up anger and frustration. They were no longer worried about damage or messiness or what would hurt the worst or stain the most when it hit; all that mattered was that they kept throwing.
"This is for slapping me!" Draco squirted chocolate sauce on her.
"Ooh, that was fun—this is for calling me a Mudblood!" Cheese slices, one of which stuck to Draco's forehead.
"This is for actually looking decent at the Yule Ball!"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I had to listen to Pansy's insecure bitching about it! This is for petrifying me all night!"
"This is for seeing me naked!"
"KILL HIM A LOT, MIONE!" Fred roared at that point.
"GO FOR THE THROAT!" George added angrily.
"This is for getting me detention in the Forbidden Forest!"
"This is for making Ron vomit slugs!"
It was quite possibly the most entertaining fight in Hogwarts history. Hermione and Draco, who had to stay relatively close because of the chain, were doing their best to throw things from an odd angle, and mostly one-handed. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, taking no notice of the interest of the rest of the school, yelling about everything that they had ever done to one another.
"This is for the chimps!"
"This is for Buckbeak!"
"This is for freeing Buckbeak!"
"This is for that repeated phrase spell!"
Draco started laughing at the memory, and in a fury, Hermione turned around to find more food to throw, preferably something horribly messy. Just as she spotted a huge dish of chili, Draco leaped forward, a chocolate cream pie in one hand. As Hermione bent over to grab the chili, Draco scooted to one side of her, holding her down at the waist with his free hand—and flipping up her skirt to reveal her backside.
"LOOK! TATTOO! TATTOO!" he screamed gleefully to the hall at large. Dozens of people burst out laughing (and many craned their necks for a better look while experiencing their first feelings of appreciation towards Draco). Hermione's sword-and-rose tattoo was plainly visible for all to see, a few inches below the waistline of her skirt. Fred and George wrestled Colin Creevey's camera away from him and Fred began pushing the button frantically, trying to get as many angles as possible as Hermione struggled against Draco's arm. Then, to add injury to insult, Draco took the chocolate cream pie and slammed it against Hermione's butt.
An inhuman howl sounded; no one could tell if it was rage, embarrassment, or some other emotion, but it made just about everyone in the hall jump—everyone except Draco, who calmly sucked some pie filling from his finger. Then, quite suddenly, he found Hermione's foot connecting with his jaw.
"ARGH!" he yelled in pain and anger—and then screamed as a tsunami of chili slammed into his stomach. He forgot all about holding Hermione down, trying to get the burning, spicy concoction off the bits of skin it had touched. He didn't get to attempt this for long, however, as Hermione spun on him, intent on clawing his eyes out, on strangling him, on torturing him to death as slowly as possible. She was no longer aware of her actions; her emotions had taken over, and the only conscious thought she had was one word, repeating over and over: KILL!