Bathwater

Hogwarts: Where the screwed live

"—No way, that's not what I heard."

"—Oh yeah, what exactly did you hear, huh?"

"—Both of you are idiots! Did you not hear that they got married over the holidays?"

Whispers broke out as two Slytherins approached the Gryffindor table, entering their ears perfectly. They passed through the gold and the ruby clad students with their emerald and silver proudly on their school robes, each of them carrying a goblet and a plate.

"No, that can't be true—they're too young." Another student whispered, ignoring that two Slytherins, their archenemies from the beginning of time by nature, as they took a seat at their table; looking like they owned it.

"Young?" A girl scoffed. "Did you not see her marriage ring?"

Draco Malfoy looked across the table from where he was taking a seat and gave an annoyed expression to Harry and Ginny Potter, both of them looking back at him with a small smirk as they continued to eat their dinner quietly, pretending like they weren't hearing the rumors flying left and right. (Yep, leave it to the Golden Boy to thrive in all this gossip.)

"Really, a ring? No, it can't—"

"Oh, shut up!" Blaise Zabini, the other Slytherin who'd taken a seat at the Gryffindor table, shouted as he slammed his goblet on the tabletop roughly. Ceasing the conversation held in whispers about the new Potter couple around the table in an instant, people looking at him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "Yes, they got married! Yes, a Weasley turned into a Potter over the damned holidays! Yes, they're too young! Yes, she has a wedding ring! Get the bloody hell over it!"

The huddled group of younger, gossiping witches looked at Zabini with terrified eyes, ignoring the laughter that the new married couple, Ron Weasley, his fiancée, and Luna Lovegood were giving them; all those little girls scared he was going to curse them.

"Zabini—"

"And yes, I know about it! I was there!" He added, cutting off Luna before she could complete her sentence as he picked up his fork from the tabletop. "…Bloody Gryffindors with their gossiping...can't see they're here...have to whisper... can't just bloody ask...Courageous my ass," the dark wizard broke into incoherent whispers, stabbing his steak as he cursed.

Having been standing behind Draco Malfoy throughout his best friend's entire crazed ramble, Hermione Granger asked, "what's wrong with Blaise?" as she lowered herself onto the bench next to her fiancée; placing a small kiss on his right cheek and ignoring the gags Ron and Harry made.

"What isn't wrong with Zabini?" Ginny interjected before Malfoy could answer, grimacing in disgust as the dark-skinned Slytherin gave up on using his silverware and began to rip his steak by hand. Sending chunks of meat and bones at the redhead and everyone else as he devoured his meal like a common barbarian.

Taking Ginny Potter's interruption to settle the pink flush that was invading his cheeks, Draco gave a small smile at his fiancée; slipping his hand cleverly sneaky to hers underneath the table and giving it a squeeze. (For the great Salazar, what is happening to him?)

"It so happens that you and Pansy were correct, Hermione," Malfoy began, trying not to let Weasley's surprised face interfere with his story. "Apparently Cho Chang went into some rage when Blaise sent her their engagement ring through owl for Christmas. She never replied to the letter, but accepted seeing as she didn't want the Ministry nosing about with her wedding plans. But once Zabini returned to Hogwarts, he had to pull a mission to get out of that chamber alive."

"Ah, so that's why Cho was screaming her Nargles off?" Luna said lightly, staring at Blaise with bright eyes.

The Slytherin grumbled a curse word, calling her crazy, and stabbed his potato without looking up.

"I told you!" Pansy threw a fork at her fellow Slytherin, not caring for his apparent shame. "Didn't I tell you that the ruddy Ravenclaw wasn't going to be okay with getting proposed that way? But, of course, you never listen to me."

"…Shut it, Pans," Blaise mumbled, sliding the fork away from him. "What was I supposed to do? I mean, it's not like I ...We're friends, mind you, but not enough for me...Why does your lot have to be bloody sexist!" He looked up from his plate, glaring and frowning deeply at Ginny, Hermione, Pansy and Luna.

The girls raised their eyebrows, frowns slowly appearing on their faces. (Well, except for Luna's who was a little too focused on the streak of sauce above his nose.)

"Excuse us?" Ginny narrowed her brown eyes angrily at the boy.

"Yeah, you heard me, Potter," Blaise ignored the satisfied smirk on her face that suddenly appeared and continued with his hissy fit. "Why is it that you lot couldn't propose to us? It's not that strange to kneel down in one leg and ask a bloke a simple question — but no! Instead you add all this pressure on us, telling us it has to be perfect, that it's what every girl dreams of, it's how you imagined it would be— no, we have to wait to have sex until the wedding night!" The group of Gryffindors paying attention to his shouting, so rudely of them by the way, stared at him as he began to turn red in the face. "Why can't I breathe?" He shouted, pulling on the collar of his shirt and loosing up his tie.

He started puffing for air, no one moving to do anything as he tugged and tugged on his tie.

And feeling ever so sympathetic for the boy, Luna stood from her seat on the table. "Keep calm, Zabini," she moved to stand behind him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Breathe, breathe. You're just overwhelming yourself. You'll be fine, just breathe."

Hermione had to slap a palm over her mouth to keep her from laughing as Blaise lifted himself from his seat and hugged Luna tightly by the waist, almost towering over her as he dropped his head on the crook of her neck and mumbled things that could not be understood.

"There, there." The blonde Ravenclaw continued to rub his back, looking at Harry and the others with solemn eyes, her gaze contradicting with their very bemused expressions. "Shhh, it's okay."

"…How does she do that?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene before her.

"I think it's the soothing voice, Pans," Ron replied to his fiancée, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they both watched the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw interact in such an odd manner. "Is - Is he crying?" He then said after a moment of silence, expression bewildered as he turned to the others.

But before anyone could add to Blaise Zabini's embarrassment, three Gryffindors approached the table looking quite happy on their faces.

"Hello, mates!" Seamus Finnegan exclaimed loudly, his arm draped around a dirty-blonde's waist. "Guess what?" His voice rang louder, causing a fit of giggles to leave from the girl next to him.

Pansy was about to open her mouth to say something insulting when, "We're getting married!" escaped from Lavender's mouth.

"What?" Everyone questioned, staring at the overjoyed faces of Lavender Brown and Seamus. (Had hell frozen over during the holidays and no one let the rest of them know?)

"I thought — well, we thought you two were going to let the Ministry set the date for you guys." The Boy-Who-Lived extended his arm over the table, his hand grabbing onto Seamus' and shaking it in a congratulating manner. "Congratulations, mate!"

There were other voices that repeated what Harry had, other faces looking equally as happy for their fellow Gryffindors as the apparently new-engaged couple pressed their sides tighter together.

"Wow, Lavender, what happened?" Hermione asked excitedly as she and Ginny smiled at the girl, no doubt remembering all the fits of rage she put herself through when it came to her chosen fiancée. "You didn't use the Unforgivable, right?"

"No," Lavender laughed teasingly, "we just spent the holidays together." She paused to smile hugely as Seamus let his arm slip from her waist to intertwined his fingers with hers, "and we got to talking about everything. And, well, one thing led to another and he asked!" She raised her right hand and flashed the gold engagement ring at them.

But behind them, tossed aside like if she was invisible, a blonde witch cleared her throat to make herself noticed. "And when's the part where you tell him you were unfaithful?" The happiness that had seemed to spread throughout the Gryffindors for Seamus and Lavender halted it self; all eyes turned to face the darkened blue of Luna Lovegood's.

"What are you on about, Lovegood?" Seamus was the first to speak, taking a few steps towards the Ravenclaw with a deep frown on his face, looking instantly annoyed by the airy girl. Not even realizing for a second the look of panic that Dean Thomas gave him; alongside Lavender.

She crossed her arms, looking at the Irish Gryffindor with an unnerving look on her pale face that was so unlike her. "I just assumed," Luna began, unmoved as Zabini gave her arm a tug, trying to get her to relax as the fury burned on her face, "that a marriage was founded on trust and loyalty. Meaning that Lavender told you about her affair."

Ginny gaped at her best friend, knowing that the ferocity building up in her sockets was the cue for igniting tears that will soon spill.

"You're insane, Luna." Lavender frowned at the blonde girl, pushing her fiancée away from her. "She's gone mental, Seamus, don't listen to her," she retaliated, trying to stand her ground, acting like it wasn't shaking beneath her feet.

"…Mental, am I?" Luna let out an uncharacteristic hiss, shoving Blaise away as he attempted to restrain her. "So, I was mental when I went into my chamber those weeks ago and I found you and Dean in a very compromising situation?" The Ravenclaw ignored the gasps that broke out from the table or Malfoy's 'I told you so' as she approached Lavender. "Tell me, Lav, was I mental when I saw you in nothing but a towel and my fiancée was as good as naked?"

"Luna—"

"I'm not talking to you!" The blonde girl shouted at Dean, her angry tears finally rolling down her white cheeks exactly like Ginny had suspected.

"It was nothing!" Lavender defended, aware that a few professors from the staff table were now tuning in to the argument in the middle of the Great Hall. "Dean, tell her it was nothing!"

"Luna, please. Listen to me, okay? I can—"Dean attempted to walk to her, to talk to her, to get her to listen, but Seamus got in the way. "…Seamus, come on, mate. Look, I - we - can explain, alright? It was nothing, I swear it. Nothing happened."

Another round of gasps irrupted from the Great Hall, and this time from the other eavesdropping tables as well that were now suddenly aware of everything that was going on; something happened that caused Dean Thomas to look distraught in just a millisecond and had Harry and Ginny Potter standing quickly from their seats.

Luna Lovegood, sweet, nice, caring, and pure, had just grabbed Blaise Zabini by the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips harshly on to his.

"There," she snapped as she pulled away from the Slytherin, leaving him looking very confused and swaying on his feet, "it was nothing!" She hissed at her fiancée and began to run out from the Great Hall, tears falling endlessly as she did.

"Damnit!" Ginny snarled, jumping out of the bench. "You better hope I don't find you alone, Dean, or I'll make you regret crossing my path!" She threatened, running after her friend as Pansy and Hermione joined her in mid-sprint.

"Wow. Quite the show you Gryffindors know how to put on, eh, Thomas?" Malfoy smirked at the wizard, looking at him and Lavender with amused eyes as the Irish Gryffindor stalked away from them; both of them completely frozen to even move or follow pursuit after Seamus.

"Tell me about it," Blaise huffed as Harry and Ron both aimed a death-glare at Dean, a leer on his face as he looked smugly at Draco. "She took my gum."

X

Hermione Granger was sitting on her bed with a lot of candles surrounding the corners of her chamber, all of them illuminating her face with their little smidge of light. Her brown curls hung into a loose ponytail, a few curls dripping from the sides and gracing her pale face. Her expression was in a rather aggressive thinking-stage, almost as if her eyebrows were knitted together permanently as she looked in complete concentration. She had her thick copy of Charms: Year Seven sprawled open on her lap, covering most of the red pajama-shorts she was wearing.

"Flagrate," she whispered, pointing the tip of the wand held loosely on her left hand forward. "Flagrate," she repeated again in a soft voice, casting a few red sparks from her wand. "Flagrate," she hissed this time, gripping her wand with a bit more force than she was doing the previous time. "Fla—"

"Hermione," Draco Malfoy tossed from his side of the bed, turning to face his fiancée with a sleepy expression and body wrapped tightly around metallic-colored sheets, "what are you doing?"

"Practicing," she huffed, dropping her wand on top of her Charms book and proceeded to read a passage from the book intently.

"Obviously, I've been hearing you for the past hour," he grunted, rubbing his eyelids. "But the question is why are you practicing that spell? It's a charm we learned ages ago," he said, lifting himself up with an elbow and looking at the open pages of her book.

Frowning at his tone—a tone that was suggesting that she was stupid—Hermione snapped her book close, "it's a review, Draco."

"You're a war hero, " her fiancée repeated with her same annoyed voice, but tossing her a smirk, "you've done every spell imaginable. Why must you try and rub it in our faces that you are better than us?"

She crossed her arms, trying to push her late night irritation aside. "I haven't done every spell, dear. I'm sure I have never done, nor do I intend to cast any Unforgivable Curses at anyone." She returned his leer, receiving a wide grin from the Slytherin as she managed to imitate his smirk perfectly. "Besides, I'm not trying to prove that I'm better than you, I already know that I am." She lifted her wand and smacked him on the head with it.

He winced, pulling her wand from her grip, earning a hissed curse from the Brightest Witch of the Age. "You've got a bit of arrogance in you, have I ever mentioned that?"

"Once," she said, reaching over for her wand, "now give it." Her voice came out in a low warning tone, her eyes squinting as Draco scooted himself a few centimeters away from her; her wand still held tightly in the air with his bare arm stretched towards the ceiling.

He smirked and she glared, all humor pushed aside.

"Malfoy—"

"Ah, ah, ah, Hermione," Draco shook his blonde hair, pulling himself up into a sitting position, never lowering his arm an inch as he did, "it's Draco, remember? D-R-A-C-O." He batted his lashes at her mockingly. "I thought we left the surname use in the old days. You know, back when we were children?"

"It was yesterday, D-R-A-C-O!" She snapped, copying the use of spelling his name letter by letter. "And you're still a child, so don't grace yourself with the lack of an honest compliment."

He frowned at her. "I am not!" He retorted, waving the wand in the air.

"Really?" She snorted.

He coughed, composure seeping into his expression. "Point taken," he threw her the wand, taking advantage as she leaped for her holy-stick to jump on her. He smoothly captured her between the mattress they shared and the feel of his warm, bare chest. "I am a child."

Taken aback—really, really, really aback—Hermione peered up at the blonde through her eyelashes. Her breath catching in the back of her throat, barely making it circle down to her lungs were it was seriously needed as she dropped her wand onto the marbled floor; everything else blanked out from her head but those glittering silver eyes of his.

"…S-so," she cleared her throat, pushing the clogging oxygen away as she tried to find her courage and control, "the tables have turned, I see. Apparently the once-annoying Gryffindor is the mature one from our lot then. Not that it's surprising, mind you, considering that you're a bratty boy, but still."

"You seem to be missing something, Hermione," Draco placed a finger on top of her moving lips, shutting her up completely as her eyes met in the middle and looked at his finger, " and that's that you're still that annoyingly mature Gryffindor, but you're my annoying Gryffindor."

Again, her oxygen got stuck, not moving, not doing bloody anything as her eyes practically popped out. "…How charming," she croaked, the blush running to her cheeks from his action and words.

"And now you have seem to have forgotten that I am very charming," he laughed, lowering his head and resting it on her chest, right above her heart.

Slowly, Hermione raised one of her eyebrows with confusion, looking down at the boy laying on top of her with a peaceful expression looking like there was no care in the world for him in that very moment.

The same boy who had tortured her for six years without any mercy, who wanted her dead more desperately than he wanted Harry Potter dead, his arch-nemesis, even if his side during the war was working hard to achieve that. He had spent years reminding her that her 'kind' was nothing and they will never be greater. That him, along with so many ignorant Purebloods, were the best thing that happened to the world, Magical and non-Magical. Countless were the times when she had to grit her teeth, ignore the shattering self-esteem, hold back the tears when he called her a Mudblood. Her blood was as dirty as they came, he had said so may times after all, saying that he would never touch her even with a twelve-foot cauldron mixer.

But now, now he laid perfectly still on top of her, snuggled deeply on her chest; his left arm draped over her waist. His fingers playing with the hem of her shirt with gentleness, a touch so simple that sent shivers up her spine.

(Oh, dear Merlin, no! Absolutely no, no, no, no, no, no!)

Her brown eyes looked at Malfoy's pale, pointed face with a look beyond fear spreading on her expression, terror gripping her prisoner from everywhere—from inside her, from outside, from the tip of her head to her toes, from everywhere.

"…I've been thinking, Hermione," Draco whispered, his eyes closed as he heard the rhythm of her heart, "about the wedding, I mean."

She gulped, pushing the pressure down her throat as her eyes were still wide with shock and complete horror. "…A-and?" She muttered back.

"How would you feel about a summer wedding?" He asked, fascinated with the thump, thump of her heart that he didn't realize the things he was saying. "I just assume it'd be easier for you since the final exams will be done by then, and nothing can possibly interfere with your studying in the springtime. I know that whole learning rubbish is important to you and all, and we could, you know, erm, study together and attend your friends weddings, and then worry about ours last."

She was silent for a second, formulating plans of escape in her head that were being silenced and forgotten by every word that was coming out of his mouth. "…You're thinking about accommodating me, Draco?" She asked surprised by his decision, or the thoughts of her needs crossing his selfish mind first.

He shrugged on top of her. "I just want you to be happy, that's all."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Thank you," she whispered after a short pause.

She stretched her fingers to the bottom of his chin, caressing the soft skin there. Tracing another long finger to his pale cheek and enjoying the soft feel of him. Sensing, and realizing for what seemed like the first time, that he was human. That he was soft, warm and whole. Something that she never took notice of before.

"Draco?" Her touch on his face shook, the fear was spreading faster throughout her body that her heart rate picked up, making the Slytherin lift himself off her chest and look at her with confusion from sudden rush taking over her.

Taking the chance that he lifted his head from her chest, Hermione pulled on his chin; directing him up towards her face with her slender fingers. And once their eyes locked, in that manner that only Draco Malfoy is equipped with to penetrate right through her, she let the fear overwhelm her, accepting it as she pressed her lips gently onto his.

(She was screwed now—screwed!)

She just moved her lips with him, together in perfect sync. She couldn't help but feel many emotions soar through her, following the thick blood running through her veins in an excitement and a thrill. And yet as all those feelings and thoughts rummaged through her head, all that seemed to exist for that moment was the feel of her ex archenemy's lips on hers and how soft he moved them against hers. A gentle side of him that she can't seem to get used to.

Her eyes shut together tightly in surprise as his warm hand found her thigh, sending tingles all over her skin. She had to fight, fight with herself to let an unknown feeling takeover her as electrical currents ran up her spine, sending tingles to the flesh that Draco was currently touching as he hoisted her leg over his waist in a swift movement. She had to shut the voices in her head and keep on letting his fingertips trace the skin of her thigh in a light caress, climbing higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter.

And for him there was something else, something else that wasn't necessarily a fight or a struggle. It was a surrender. It was him giving up to a wave of something he'd never known, of this feeling filling him up with an emotion that was far from urge and need but with something pure. Something that made him want to hold her tight, and that's it. Just to hold her tight, to feel her in his arms is what he was craving.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Just in time—like a holy interruption for the two confused Hogwarts students—a banging on their outside door sounded around their quiet chamber.

Slowly removing her mouth from Draco's, Hermione looked at him with a deep pink flush on her face. "….We, erm.. we better answer that."

"I rather we not," he whispered, pushing away those loose strands of hair from her face. "Can't we just...stay here? Pretend like we don't hear it?"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Hermione gave a small giggle, her fingers suddenly intertwining into his blonde hair as she looked at him with soft, almost adoring eyes. "It's a bit hard to ignore it, Draco. Besides," she patted his back with her free palm, "it might be McGonagall. After the drama Lavender and Dean managed to get themselves in, I heard Professor Sprout saying they will be checking in on each chamber just to verify that everyone is with their correct spouse."

Groaning, not so sure why he was disappointed, Malfoy jumped off of his fiancée's warm body. "I now feel terribly sorry for Lovegood. She really is trapped with Thomas. Poor witch."

"Don't feel so bad for her," Hermione took Draco's extending hand, letting him pull her up from their mattress with a smile of gratitude on her face, "Luna seems to be controlling the situation fairly well."

He snorted. "She snogged Blaise!" The Slytherin pointed out, lacing his fingers with hers. "Is that considered controlling the situation? She's got more problems in that loony head of hers once Chang finds out she's been kissing her fiancée for revenge."

"Or maybe," Hermione lifted a free finger in the air, crossing the door of the bedroom with her fiancée and stepping to the living room of her chamber, "Luna provided Cho with some insight that her fiancée is faithful to the core, no matter how thick he is, and he cares enough not to do anything stupid and rash with Luna because of her hurt feelings."

"Yeah, well, Zabini has never been a good Slytherin before." He scoffed, his fingers slowly slipping from hers, so unwillingly, as she went for the handle of the door.

Hermione laughed, "what even makes a good—" Draco watched as Hermione stopped in the middle of her comment, the door flying open. "You?"

"Good evening to you too, Miss Granger."

Hermione wobbled back, her eyes opened wide in surprise.

"How are you?"

"—Viktor!" The Slytherin glared, a sense of uncontrollable anger rising deep inside his chest as he watched his Gryffindor squeal and leap forward to the tall wizard standing outside of their Chamber.

"Hermione!" Viktor Krum, the famous Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch team, wrapped his muscular arms around her petite waist. Pulling her off her feet and clutching on to her with a huge grin on his face like he'd never seen her before.

Draco's pale palms contracted into fists.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was still filled with excitement as he lowered her down, his hands now holding on to hers. "I imagined you far away in Bulgaria, training like a mad man now that you have all that free time in the world. You know, no school to come in between you and your career."

"I've come to talk to the Minister of Magic of your country, I have some questions about this new law he passed." He smiled happily at her. "I asked for some special permission to come and see you. I hope you don't mind, it has been years since I last saw you."

"Yeah, since Fleur and Bill's wedding," Hermione nodded, remembering the time Ron, out of pure jealousy, ripped her away from the Bulgarian. (Not that she minded at the moment. She was positive that she had some feelings for her redhead best friend in those times.) "Wow, that was so long ago, Viktor."

He nodded, looking a little saddened by the fact. "Do you mind if we take a walk to the grounds—or the library. I like thinking back to old times." He patted her cheek in a friendly manner, looking quite caring.

"Of course!" Hermione spun herself to reach for the door handle when she noticed her fiancée throwing daggers at her. She recognized the anger boiling in his face, his silvery eyes turning into a molten metallic shade whenever he grew infuriated, a sign she has seen so many times before on his handsome face. "Erm, hey, um, Draco, do you think I could go with Viktor for a bit?"

Ignoring the fact that she was asking him permission to leave the chamber—especially with that phony as crap Bulgarian—Draco tightened his fist even more, able to feel the bones of his knuckles press against his flesh roughly. "Of course, Hermione," he said through a controlled interior, " I'll just be waiting for you...in bed when you come back."

"You're Draco Malfoy, right?" Viktor asked before Hermione stepped out of the door.

"Yes, I'm her fiancée," he enunciated the last word specifically. "I hope we'll be seeing you in our wedding, Krum. If you plan to stick around, that is." His infamous leer spread on his malicious face.

Grabbing Hermione's hand gently, a delightful smile on his deep expression, Viktor Krum said, "I'll be honored," and then he pushed himself and the brunette out the chamber without a look back.

"…No, the honor will be mine," Malfoy hissed, his fury burning into deeper levels of insanity.

For the great Slytherin, Draco, control yourself! He shouted in his head, glaring at the open door with all his might. What is your bloody problem? Let the damned Gryffindor have a couple of friends. She'll need them once you're done with—No, no! She's yours! Why the hell would you let some Bulgarian idiot come into your chamber and take her away? She is yours—that's your ring on her finger! Claim her back! You've never been...

Oh, bloody hell.

Draco loosened his fist, letting the blood circulate back to his fingers. Shock spread throughout his entire body as his anger was replaced with something else.

"Was that just Viktor Krum?" Standing at the entrance of his chamber, Blaise Zabini, wrapped around an emerald blanket, looked outside; staring at the two retreating figures that now looked like spots of shadows on the corridor floor.

The Slytherin didn't seem to hear a word that was coming out of his friend's mouth, and was instead focused on a realization that just emerged into his head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—fuck.

Draco Malfoy was in love with Hermione Granger. (Oh, yes, for all the fucks of the fucks up in the fucking sky, he was.)

"Humph, bloody intruders, mate, I'm telling you," Blaise scoffed as he headed towards the only room in the chamber, dragging his blanket with him.

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