Better Ridiculous Than Boring (Drabbles)

Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts with a single minded focus. There was one single enduring question, and Merlin be damned, she would get answers before the end of the year if it killed her. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could find in a book and everyone she asked lied to her face about it, so she had finally taken matters into her own hands. That was how she found herself in the bowels of the castle on a Friday night, dismantling the wards that prevented her from gaining access to the slytherin common room. The greatest secret that Hogwarts still had, the one that continued to evade her - what exactly happened at the legendary slytherin parties? 

Whenever you asked a snake, they denied it all, but Hermione knew they were up to something. There was never a single green-tied student at breakfast on a Saturday morning, and when they did finally emerge, every single one of them had the worst hangovers she’d ever seen. She’d broached the subject with her potions partner, Theo Nott, once and he’d just shot her a knowing smile and told her that it was a house secret that he’d promised to take to his grave. That had done nothing to sate her curiosity and had simply stoked the fire. She’d fallen into a friendly sense of amicability with the majority of the slytherins in her year, and so she bloody well wanted to know just what it was that made their parties so special. She wanted to know why no other house was allowed in, why it was such a secret. 

There was a time where she’d decided to just drop it. She would move on and be content in the knowledge that it was just a slytherin thing that she wasn’t a part of. It wasn’t like she knew every single thing that happened in the castle anyway, so it didn’t matter. Then she’d made an off hand comment to Malfoy about it on their prefect rounds, and he’d told her that he wished she could attend one day, and fuck it all, she’d been on a one witch mission ever since. That bastard, with his sincere apologies and floppy fringe, had sent her on a downward spiral into the depths of insanity, and now she just had to know. 

Under the guise of going for a run, she’d slipped out of her dorm in leggings and a crop top, and had taken a bizarre route down to the dungeons, twirling her wand nervously the whole way. Hermione knew she was overthinking things. She knew she was forcibly sticking her nose into other people’s business, but Malfoy had looked so sincere when he’d muttered those few words and she’d thought of little else since. If for no other reason than the preservation of her remaining sanity, she was getting into that room. 

The wards were fairly simple, all things considered. She wasn’t really surprised. They wouldn’t need to be impenetrable, not when those on the outside of the castle did that job admirably. The wall melted away, somewhat ostentatiously in her opinion, and she snuck inside before anyone could question her. 

Immediately, she was hit with a wall of sound. This was what she had expected, loud music and firewhiskey. Scantily clad witches, too, if Parkinson was to be believed, which, invariably, she was not. 

The further down the dingy corridor she ventured, the clearer the music got. She was very confused as she recognised the song. 

Rounding the final corner and sticking her head into the common room itself, Hermione frowned at the scene before her. 

“I’ve had the time of my life! No, I never felt this way before!” There, upon an honest to Circe stage, was her slimy little potions partner, belting out the song from Dirty bloody Dancing opposite Blaise Zabini, who was graciously doing the male parts with equal gusto. The illusion that these people were anything approaching cool was quickly and thoroughly shattered. She barked out a laugh before she could stop herself, and immediately attracted the attention of the grey eyes that had been stuck in her head for weeks. 

Peeling himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, he sauntered over with unfettered interest painted on his face. 

“Well, well. It seems we’ve got ourselves an interloper in our midst.” Malfoy drawled. “How the hell did you get in?” 

“Dismantled the wards.” She replied with a slight shrug. “What the fuck am I even looking at?” 

“This is a classic, I’ll have you know.” He sniffed, and she snorted lightly. 

“You all made these things out to be some kind of high society exclusive soirées. Now I’m standing here wondering if they’re going to do the lift from the film or not.” 

“Oh, they absolutely are. When some space clears, don’t get in the way if you want your bones to remain intact.” He grinned. “Can I offer you a drink? I wouldn’t usually reward delinquency like this but it’s quite the feat you’ve managed, so I feel like you’ve earned it.” 

“What a gracious host you are, Malfoy.” She smirked up at him. 

“Only for you, Granger. Anyone else that broke in would get hexed.” 

“Oi! This has been snakes only for the last four hundred years. You can’t break that much history, Drake, not even for your Golden Girl.” Goyle grinned at his friend, clearly already drunk. 

“She broke in of her own accord, Greg. Nothing to do with me.” He replied. “I’m simply supervising.” 

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” Malfoy replied in the sort of tone that made her think he was not only lying, but sharing some kind of inside joke with Goyle. She drained the last of the firewhiskey he’d given her - expensive, she’d noted - and abandoned her cup on the table next to her. 

“I’m really the first ever person from another house to find out your dirty little karaoke secret?” She asked. 

“That you are, Granger.” Goyle nodded. 

“It wasn’t always karaoke. That was something our generation started. Before, it was more of the boys club I assume you’ve been imagining, but we figured there was more fun to be had than just sitting around doing nothing.” Malfoy explained. 

“Muggle songs, though? How the hell did that happen?” She asked. 

“Was all your fault, actually.” Goyle replied, and she frowned at him. “We just sang wizarding songs until Theo saw your collection of those disc things in your room. He did some research and forced what he found on us.” 

“You created a monster.” Malfoy added, and she laughed. 

“I’m…sorry?” 

“I’d take this over Celestina shitting Warbeck any day.” Pansy Parkinson chimed in, appearing next to Hermione. “How did you get in? Did Draco smuggle you?” 

“She took the wards down, Pans.” Malfoy replied, already sounding tired of the constant accusations. Hermione idly wondered why everyone assumed it was him that had let her in. 

“Merlin, were you seriously that desperate to know what we were doing in here?” Parkinson snorted. “Batshit, Granger. You need a hobby.” 

“It was driving me mad.” She admitted, and Parkinson laughed. 

“Well, I hope we’re meeting expectations. It’s always been a bit of a sausage fest here anyway, so I can’t say I mind your company. Oh, and Theo will be thrilled. He’s been wanting to ask you to hang out for ages.”

“Has he?” Hermione frowned, wrinkling her nose. 

“Doesn’t stop going on about you.” Goyle chimed in. “Talks about you almost as much as this one does.” He nodded his head towards Malfoy, who immediately glared at his friend over the rim of his glass. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. Her gaze flicked between Malfoy and Goyle, the latter grinning unrepentantly while Malfoy’s expression turned cool.

“Oh really?” She asked, tilting her head with mock innocence.

“You’re drunk, Goyle.” Malfoy muttered, downing the rest of his drink with a long, deliberate sip.

“Not drunk enough to miss how you stare at her like she hung the bloody stars.” Goyle countered with a chuckle. “Come on, mate, we’ve all seen it.”

Malfoy shot him a look that promised retribution, but Hermione didn’t let him dodge. “Is that true, Malfoy? Have I earned this dubious honour?”

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to deflect, but the sound of cheering interrupted them. Hermione turned just in time to see Blaise and Theo attempt, and utterly fail, the promised iconic lift. Blaise ended up flat on his back, Theo bent double with laughter, and the entire room dissolved into chaos.

Malfoy sighed. “You see what I have to deal with? Babysitting these idiots every week?”

“You’re not getting out of answering the question that easily.” Hermione quipped, smirking.

He sighed again, this time in resignation, and set his glass down with exaggerated care. His gaze met hers, and for once, his smirk was nowhere in sight. “If I were to admit that I find you endlessly fascinating, Granger, what would you do with that information?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his tone, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I’d probably tell you that you’re far more tolerable than I expected.” She said lightly, though her voice was softer than she’d intended. “And that maybe you should stop lurking in the shadows and say something next time.”

His lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, one that made her stomach flip. “Duly noted.”

Before she could reply, Parkinson grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the makeshift stage. “Come on, Granger. You crashed our sacred tradition, so now you’ve got to participate.”

“I don’t sing!” Hermione protested, shooting a wide-eyed glance back at Malfoy, who was watching her with barely concealed amusement.

“Too bad! House rules.” Parkinson shoved a microphone into her hand.

With the entire room chanting her name, Hermione reluctantly climbed onto the stage. Theo handed her a songbook, still grinning from his earlier tumble, and she flipped through it with mounting dread. But then she saw it - the perfect song. She smirked, selecting it with a flourish.

As the opening notes of Holding Out for a Hero blasted through the room, Hermione threw herself into the performance with wild abandon, fueled by firewhiskey and sheer determination. The slytherins cheered louder with every verse, and by the time she hit the final note, she was breathless and grinning like a madwoman.

The applause was deafening, and when she stepped off the stage, Malfoy was waiting with a glass of firewhiskey and an unreadable expression. 

“Not bad, Granger. Not bad at all.”

“High praise from you.” She teased, accepting the drink.

“I mean it.” He said quietly, his gaze locking with hers. “You’re full of surprises.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “So are you, Malfoy.”

As the night went on, the common room became a blur of laughter, music, and camaraderie. For the first time in years, Hermione felt truly at ease, like she belonged. And as Malfoy leaned in to whisper something in her ear, his voice low and teasing, just for her, she couldn’t help but think that this was one mystery she was glad she’d unraveled.