A Bit of Payback
The library was quiet as always when Hermione finally gathered her belongings. She had spent the last few hours trying to corral Fred and George, guiding them through the basics of nonverbal magic. The session hadn’t been a total disaster—well, not entirely—but Hermione was exhausted. Hermione couldn’t deny that she had, in some strange way, made progress with Fred and George. The twins, for all their antics, had managed to summon their textbooks—well, sort of—and that was something, even if it meant Fred had spent half the time rubbing his nose and muttering about books seeking vengeance.
As she packed up her things, Hermione glanced at her watch, realizing that dinner would be served soon. She’d have to go over the theory on the Drought Charm and the Vinegar to Wine spell again, as they were likely to come up in tomorrow’s lesson. The walk from the library to the Great Hall was one she often took alone, the air crisp with the sharp bite of early winter.
As she passed through the archway that led to the hall, Hermione was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the figure leaning casually against the stone wall until it was too late.
“Well, well, well,” a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and laced with that unmistakable arrogance that Hermione had grown all too familiar with. “If it isn’t the infamous Granger, Queen of the Books and Defender of the Rules.”
Hermione froze, the hairs on the back of her neck rising instinctively. She knew that voice all too well. Turning, she came face to face with Draco Malfoy, who was standing with his arms folded, a sneer twisting his features as he looked her up and down.
“I didn’t realize the library had such a pull on you,” Draco continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything better to do than to play little headmaster with the Weasley twins.”
Hermione didn’t bother hiding her disdain as she glared at him. “I’m surprised you even know how to spell ‘library,’ Malfoy,” she retorted, her voice calm but sharp.
Draco’s lips curled into a grin, though it wasn’t friendly. “I’m sure you’re delighted with your little study group,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing with mock pity. “But you can’t honestly think they’re going to learn anything from you, can you? Those two can barely manage to cast a simple charm, let alone keep their mouths shut long enough to do anything properly.”
Hermione’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She could feel her temper rising, but she held it in check. Draco Malfoy had a knack for getting under her skin, and she wasn’t about to let him win this time.
“You seem to be awfully concerned with how I spend my time, Malfoy,” Hermione said coolly. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own studies? Or, better yet, doing something useful for once?”
Draco’s eyes flicked to the side as he smirked. “Useful?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’ve always found that being charming is far more effective than all that bookish nonsense you seem to think is so important.” He took a step closer, his sneer widening. “But then again, you probably wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Hermione’s lips parted, ready to fire back with something cutting, but before she could speak, Draco waved a dismissive hand, as though he was finished with her.
“Well, whatever,” he said, his tone now bored. “I’ve got better things to do than listen to you drone on about your ‘important’ study sessions. Just don’t expect anyone else to take you seriously, Granger. You’re hardly a model for the rest of us.”
With that, he turned on his heel, walking off with a swagger that only Draco Malfoy could manage. Hermione stood there for a moment, her jaw clenched in frustration. She hated that he could still get to her after all these years. It wasn’t as if his words held any real weight—they never did—but the arrogance in his tone always made her feel like a fool, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
Still, she wasn’t about to let him ruin her evening. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and made her way into the Great Hall, determined to focus on the night ahead.
A few hours later, the noise in the Great Hall was as boisterous as ever. The long tables were filled with students laughing, chatting, and eating, the clatter of cutlery filling the air. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were seated at their usual spot, surrounded by the noise of the other students. They’d managed to get through a reasonably uneventful dinner, though Hermione couldn’t shake the lingering irritation from her encounter with Draco earlier.
“Blimey,” Ron muttered, looking toward the entrance of the hall. “Looks like Malfoy’s had a bit too much of something.” His eyes were fixed on the figure of Draco Malfoy, who was striding confidently toward the Slytherin table, his usual smug expression in place.
Draco reached for his seat, but just as he was about to sit, something strange happened. He froze mid-motion, his hand hovering over the edge of the table. A strange sensation seemed to ripple through him. His eyes widened, his body stiffened, and for a brief moment, it almost looked like he was… vibrating?
“Is he… is he okay?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
But it was too late for Draco to react. Suddenly, with a loud pop, a huge pie—covered in a brilliant mixture of chocolate and whipped cream—appeared out of nowhere and landed squarely on his head. The pie squelched and splattered as it made contact with his perfectly styled platinum blonde hair, drenching him completely.
The hall went silent for a split second, as if the entire student body had collectively gasped in disbelief. Then, as if on cue, an explosion of laughter erupted from every corner. Even the Slytherins couldn’t help but snicker, though they tried to suppress their amusement.
Draco stood there, stunned, his face dripping with whipped cream, a piece of chocolate sliding down his forehead. His usual composure was completely shattered, and for the first time in years, Draco Malfoy looked entirely out of his element. His eyes darted around the room, narrowing with fury as he sputtered, trying to wipe the pie off his face, but only succeeding in smearing it further.
“That’s... that’s impossible,” Draco hissed, but no one was paying attention to his protest.
From across the hall, Fred and George Weasley sat together, their faces adorned with mischievous smiles, their eyes twinkling with mirth as they watched the scene unfold. They exchanged a meaningful glance, the unspoken understanding clear between them. They nodded toward Hermione, who was trying and failing to suppress the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.
It wasn’t a loud or boisterous gesture—more of a subtle acknowledgment—but it was enough for Hermione to know they had a hand in this little bit of payback. The twins had, once again, managed to turn the tables on Draco Malfoy, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the sight of his discomfort.
Draco, still trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, shot a venomous glare toward Hermione. “You!” he spat, his voice low with fury. “This is your doing, isn’t it?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and composed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Malfoy,” she said smoothly, though the edge of amusement was impossible to hide.
Draco’s face reddened as he sputtered in frustration. “This is—this is ridiculous!”
Hermione could only smile faintly as she returned to her dinner, pretending to ignore the chaos around her. She knew it wasn’t technically her prank, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the moment. And as Draco tried to wipe the last remnants of chocolate off his robes, she caught sight of Fred and George once more, their faces grinning like Cheshire cats. She gave them a barely perceptible nod in return.
It had been a long day. But sometimes, a little bit of chaos was exactly what the day needed.