Slytherin Skirmish

Part Three: Slytherin Skirmish

Hermione Granger was miffed. It had been two days since the Break Room Incident, and her life had changed. Her work, which used to please her and make her feel useful, had become disorganized and filled with errors. Ernie Macmillan, her supervisor, had actually returned her report on toaster oven mishaps. Returned it! Covered in red ink! What was wrong with her? She frowned at one particularly irksome comment. The mishap in Surrey had not been cited properly. This was intolerable. Hermione chided herself. Focus, Granger! She wrote Colin an interoffice memo enquiring if Malfoy had returned the archival file yet and sent it off. There was no way she'd approach him directly. Everyone had enough to gossip about as it was. Damn that Zabini! Hermione paused, contemplating her irritation, prodding at it with uncertain approbation. Yes. That was why she was unsettled. Off her game. She detested gossip of any sort. Hermione liked information to be accurate at all times. That Malfoy certainly appeared to have at least one positively huge asset had nothing to do with it. Her eyes glazed slightly. At least, she hoped her observations were accurate. Hoped? What a repugnant thought. This was the pureblood prat, who had reviled her in school, who was rumored to be gay. Not that she listened to gossip. Though, she was female, right? She hadn't detected any... interest... Oh, my. It was that size... inert? Repugnant, Granger. Do not go there.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco Malfoy was miffed. No, that sounded a little... poncey. He was upset, irked, thoroughly outraged. Two days since the Break Room Incident, and his life had changed. His work, haphazard at best, had become fraught with anxiety and extended outdoor smoke breaks. So he didn't really smoke. Everyone knew cigarettes were macho. And it was a convenient way to avoid Colin's distressingly frequent memos. Damn Zabini! Between his pervasive brand of gossip mongering and Creevey's winged missives of devotion (all of which sat untouched on the leaning tower of archival folders), the rumors concerning his sexual preferences had not died off, as hoped for.

Malfoy, being a Slytherin and protégé of Severus Snape, was not unduly worried about the Creevey situation. A bit of finesse and blackmail should clear the air quickly. What gave him pause were the infernally persistent thoughts of a certain curly-haired know-it-all. He could not possibly be attracted to that Muggleborn swot. No matter how lush and perky that bottom looked. He was actually grateful for Zabini's timely intervention. One minute more and Pinocchio would have made a new friend.

His father's expression of disappointment™ swam through his conscience. Gay or half-blood grandchildren? It was hard to say which would get him disinherited faster. Not that there was anything to inherit, thanks to the Ministry. A lushly perky bottom and swotty little nippers would certainly make him happy. Besides, a gay partner would insist on equal bathroom time. His decision made, he sauntered forth to find his good friend Zabini.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione Granger's day had progressed to the point where she wished a returned report was the worst of it. Her brain persisted in speculating on the length and girth of Malfoy's... special purpose. Colin had not received the toaster oven folder back. At lunch, Hermione overheard some Unspeakables discussing her and Malfoy as if they were a couple. Ten? Eleven? Four? She bit her lip in an effort to distract her relentless curiosity and threw herself back into her work.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Naturally, Draco found him at the scene of the crime. In the Break Room with Frank. The bloody git. Zabini's grin of welcome was best described as shit-eating.

"So, how is Pinocchio taking the news that Geppetto is gay?"

"Damn Pansy Parkinson and her big mouth to the ninth circle of hell!"

Zabini's voice transformed into a screechy falsetto. "Oh, look, Drakie, he grows so big when you lie!"

Frank tittered uncertainly. He had not forgotten his recent narrow escape.

Draco's fake smile became chillingly feral. "Trading old school stories, are we? Did you tell Frank about the time my reverse Aguamenti emptied the lake?"

A trickle of water slid from Frank's nozzle to the tiled floor.

"Who knew the Giant Squid wore boxers, eh, Malfoy?" Zabini chuckled lightly, even as his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Ah, yes. Boxers. Hmmm... dear old Hogwarts. Oh. Frank, did Zabini tell you the story about Mad-Eye Moody's boxers?"

"Alright, Malfoy. What do you want from us?"

"Well, if you're sure Frank wouldn't like to hear that Moody story... " Draco paused politely. It had been two days, after all. "No? I find I'm rather tired of my new reputation. You two are going to set matters straight."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A giggle from the next cubicle broke Hermione's concentration. A murmured, "Hush... she's right there," chased it away entirely.

"But I heard it's her and Malfoy and Creevey."

"Riddikulus!" Hermione huffed loudly and quickly retreated to the Break Room. Perhaps that spell worked on gossip as well as boggarts. It was definitely time for a quiet read and tea.

She entered the room, tossing a falsely cheery, "Hallo, Frank," the water cooler's way and settled into her favorite chair. She pulled a dog-eared copy of The Awakening out of her pocket as a cup of earl grey tea popped onto the nearby table, a chocolate Kiss nestled on the saucer. She opened the book to chapter thirty-one and had almost lost herself in Edna's disquietude when Frank burbled loudly, yanking her back to reality.

"Ms. Granger... " he began tentatively.

"Yes?" she enquired coolly.

"I'm really sorry about what I've heard today," Frank replied in a concerned tone. "Everyone seems to think Mr. Malfoy is using you callously. It isn't true is it? Nothing ever happened before?"

"Nothing has ever happened, Frank, " Hermione gritted out.

"Well, no. I suppose not. But I tried to tell people that and about the Kiss. And now it's all confused. No one blames you, of course. You are the helplessly naïve and inexperienced shy bookworm. Malfoy is the pureblood, ruthlessly experienced seducer. Everyone knows you would never pounce on a man, let alone in the workplace. Why, Colin Creevey defended you too! He said you would die an old maid before you'd lay a hand on a tasty morsel like Malfoy," Frank burbled consolingly. "Lavender Brown agreed. I think she nodded her head and said, 'Poor Hermione, books will be her comfort'."

"Pounce! Old maid!" Hermione sputtered. "Poor Hermione?!" She gulped down the earl grey and distractedly unwrapped the little Kiss. "I'm not... Comfort!" She popped the confection in her mouth and gnashed it to mush, swallowing before proclaiming, "I'll show them!"

She carefully pocketed her novella and stormed out of the Break Room, leaving behind a fluttering tissue paper banner. Its message read: LET HIM HAVE IT.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Colin Creevey read Hermione's latest directive guised as an interoffice folder request and sighed. Merlin knew he had tried and tried and tried to encourage Malfoy to return those folders. Well, this mountain will just have to go to the magician. He tittered and then wandered in the direction of Malfoy's lair. Maybe he would get a date too.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco had just picked up a book of matches, and was headed outside, when a mass of curly hair attached to a pleasingly curvy body pinned him to his desk. Suddenly recalling a vicious slap from third year, he leaned back apprehensively and scattered the archival folders all over the floor.

Hermione growled at him and climbed his body with the skill of a mountain goat. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Granger looked pissed. Maybe the handprint would wear off by Easter. Maybe he shouldn't have coerced Frank into helping. He braced himself for the sting and the resultant swarm of stars. Granger grabbed his tie and yanked his head forward. She was strangling him! He couldn't breathe! He opened his mouth to plead for mercy.

"Grang... mmmph!"

Her lips mashed onto his with the jet-propelled force of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. It was awkward. Painful. And over much, much, much too soon. Oh, look, stars. His mind hummed contentedly, at one with the Universe.

Hermione clambered back down his body, adroitly avoiding a mostly wooden part of his anatomy. Are you the Blue Fairy? Draco willed Pinocchio not to embarrass him. I want to be a real boy!

Granger eyed him with smirking satisfaction and muttered, "Poor Hermione, ha!" She turned to leave and almost ran smack into a gaping Colin Creevey.

"You hussy," he breathed.

She smiled and then spotted the toaster oven file. She bent over from the waist, thrusting out her bum in the process. Draco whimpered behind her. Straightening with a snap, she purred, "Never mind the file, Colin. I have it now."

And her hips swayed as she sauntered away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: In Dante's Inferno, the ninth circle of hell is occupied by traitors.

Bend and snap borrowed from "Legally Blonde."

Originally posted to the Live Journal dramionedrabbles community for the 2008 St. Valentine's Day 7 Kisses Challenge.

Day 3 prompt: angry kiss.