Snog Marry Avada

“Okay, Hermione. Snog, Marry, Avada - Nott, Zabini, Malfoy.” 

“I’ve already told you, Ginny, I’m not playing your ridiculous game.” 

Hermione was at the end of her tether. She’d retired to the Prefects' dorm in the hope of an early night but instead had been met with a plethora of girls, all drunk off of Firewhiskey. Ginny had clearly decided to take liberties with her boyfriend’s password for the dorm and Hermione was having none of it. 

“Oh come on, live a little! Which of the snakes would you snog - at least tell us that?” 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that your boyfriend is included in the trio, Gin. Therefore, I’ve decided it’s not fair for me to answer.” 

“I couldn’t care less if you want to snog Blaise. It’s me he shags at the end of the night anyway,” Ginny giggled, accompanying her words with a crude rendition of what Hermione could only presume was Ginny’s party trick. 

“The only reason she’s not answering is that she can’t decide whether he wants to snog or marry Malfoy.” Susan Bones interjected, raising her cup in admiration for Hermione. 

“I’d rather die than snog Malfoy.” 

“It’s okay Hermione, you don’t have to save face anymore. Inter-house unity and all that,” Parvati added, her eyes glassy. “You can admit that you fancy him. I’ve seen the way you look at him in Charms.”

“I don’t look at him in Charms,” she mumbled, readjusting the book bag on her shoulder.

“You do,” Ginny slurred. “Don’t be shy, Hermione. It’s okay that you fancy the ferret.”

“I do not fancy Draco Malfoy!” Hermione shouted, stomping her foot in an uncharacteristically childish display. 

“Sad to hear it, Granger.” 

Hermione turned to find Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle standing in the entryway to the common room - all sporting drunken grins. 

“Perfect. Just perfect. I’m going to bed. Make sure and clean up the common room - all of you.” Hermione said, refusing to make eye contact with Malfoy, who was leaning against one of the portraits. As she made her way down the corridor to her room, she was privy to heavy footsteps behind her. 

She picked up the pace, determined to make it to the bathroom before anyone had the chance to bother her further. As she entered, a Dragonhide boot blocked the door from closing and she looked up to find Draco Malfoy smirking at her. 

“Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes red. 

“Here?” She replied quietly, gesturing to their location - who wanted to have a conversation in a girl’s communal bathroom? Draco nodded sheepishly and she groaned in protest, before opening the door slightly and allowing him entry. He ruffled his hair, which made her laugh due to her never having seen it a strand out of place before. He questioned her laugh with his eyes and she promptly stopped giggling. 

“Go ahead then.” She said, finding the tiles of the wall behind him incredibly interesting for one reason or another. 

“Look at me, Granger.” He slurred, and her eyes snapped to meet his. He licked his lips and she felt her cheeks tinge pink. She let out a breath, attempting to appear unfazed. “You seemed awfully defensive about not fancying me.” 

“Really, Malfoy? Couldn’t this have waited? I want to go to bed,” she said, attempting to budge past him. He didn’t move and instead, she almost bounced off his side. Damn his broad Quidditch shoulders. 

“Riddle me this. Which one would you have chosen - Snog, Marry, Avada?” His eyes were dark, and she mumbled under her breath. “Speak up, Granger. We both know it wouldn’t be Avada.” 

“You’re drunk Malfoy and I’m tired. If you still want to discuss this in the morning, I’ll be in the library - if you aren’t too busy chugging Hangover potions.” Hermione huffed, once again budging past him - albeit successfully this time. 

She made her way to her room, casting a silencing charm around her four-poster bed and screamed as loud as she could. Once she’d gotten that out of her system, she lay back, rolled over and fell asleep hugging her pillow. As she always did. 

As she made her way to the library the next morning, she noticed none of her friends on her journey - she presumed most of them would be too busy nursing sore heads to be gracing the corridors. 

She found her favourite seat empty, and accio’d the books she’d been favouring for her Arithmancy essay, enjoying the silence of the library around her. After around ten minutes of peace and quiet, she was startled by someone clearing their throat. She looked up and found Draco Malfoy taking the seat next to her. 

“Morning, Granger. Sleep well?”

“Better than you I’d presume.”

“You should lighten up a bit you know. The war is over after all. Have some fun like the rest of us.”

“Yes, well unlike the rest of you, I still find value in completing my education. I swear everyone else only returned to Hogwarts to shag around and drink till the early hours of the morning.” 

“Language, Granger. Anyway, that’s not why I’m back,” Draco muttered, scanning the pile of books that were cluttering the table.

“No?”

“No. Like you, I’m looking to graduate. Anyway, you never answered my question last night.” 

“I’m surprised you remember,” Hermione mumbled, re-reading the same line again before turning the page. The book was quickly removed from her grasp and she bit back a yelp at the intrusion of her personal space.

“Of course, I remember, Granger. I was drunk, not obliviated. So, what would you have chosen?”

“I would have chosen not to partake in Ginny’s silly games.” She attempted to snatch the book back from him. He held it above her head.

“Ah ah ah! It’s not Weasley’s game anymore. It’s mine. So what would you have chosen?” He kissed his teeth and fluttered his eyelashes, eagerly awaiting her response. 

“You can act like a child all you want, Malfoy, I’m still not going to answer.” 

“Well, ask me then,” he retorted, chuckling deeply. “Put yourself and two other girls in the running and I’ll choose. Humour me.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and weighed up her options. He clearly wasn’t going to drop this.

“Fine,” she sighed, stretching her arms out in front of her. “Parvarti, Ginny and I. Snog, Marry, Avada. And be quick, will you? This essay won’t write itself.” 

“You’ve made it far too easy for me. Snog Hermione Granger, Marry Hermione Granger, Avada no one.” 

She rolled her eyes. She knew now that he was dead set on being insufferable today and she was not going to allow him the satisfaction. 

“Alright Malfoy, that’s not the rules of your stupid game but oh-”

“Ask me another. Pick two other girls and yourself. Try again,” he urged, reaching out to grab her outstretched hand. Now, he had her attention. 

“If I ask you another, will you leave me alone to write my essay?” 

“Yes,” he replied, squeezing her hand. 

“Pansy Parkinson, Astoria Greengrass and I.” 

“Snog Hermione Granger, Marry Hermione Granger, Avada Pans-” He shook his head and stopped himself in his tracks. “Sorry, that was bad of me. Avada no one.” 

“Is this you trying to prove that you’ve changed. That you don’t fancy casting killing curses anymore?”

“For your information, I’ve never cast a killing curse in my life,” he snapped, releasing her hand. He sat in silence, staring at the title of the book he was holding. She tried to meet his eyes but he was determined to look away from her.

“Sorry, Draco, that was unfair of me.”

“It was,” he agreed.

“But what’s your point then?”

“Granger, for the brightest witch of your age, you really are dense. The point is that I fancy you.” 

She stared at him in disbelief. There was no way that Draco Malfoy fancied her. She’d spent seven years being tormented by him on account of her blood status, her looks and even her brains - which she personally thought was her most redeeming quality. 

“No need to look so shocked. I’ve wanted to tell you for half of the school year, but I wasn’t sure if you’d ever even thought of me in that way,” he confessed, brushing a hand through his hair. His usual cool demeanour was fading and she could see his eye twitching. Was he nervous?

She said nothing, instead choosing to continue to observe his nervous tics. She’d only ever noticed him be nervous once, in Slughorn’s potions class when they’d been brewing Living Death. His hands had shaken as he’d stirred his potion and she distinctly remembered a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. She groaned aloud at the fact that she even remembered such a memory. 

“Right, well clearly you don’t feel the same way, so I’ll be off then.” He pushed back his chair, brushing off his robes as he stood and she grimaced at the commotion he was causing - before remembering that they were alone in the library. 

“Sit down, Draco,” she demanded, perhaps a little bit too harshly. He quickly returned to sit in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him. He smirked slightly and she glared at him, promptly causing him to return his lips to a neutral expression. 

“How do I know I’m not just another one of your conquests?” Draco scoffed and she took the opportunity to sit back in her chair. “I’ve heard about the Slytherin’s tally system, Malfoy. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

“I think you’ll find that it’s only Goyle and Nott that keep track of their sexual conquests. I personally find it a bit crass.”

“How nice of you.” 

“My mother’s trial,” he said quietly after a moment. 

“What about it?”

“I knew my opinion of you had changed when you testified at my mother’s trial. You didn’t have to do that.”

“She contributed to the ending of the War. You both did.” 

“Yes, but you could have said the bare minimum and been done with it, but you didn’t. You spent time with me and worked up a statement that I was happy with. You did everything right.” 

“So, you decided then that you fancied me?”

“No, that’s when I decided I admired you. I started fancying you in our sixth year but I was a bit too busy trying to stay alive so I wasn’t able to pursue you.” 

“Oh,” Hermione said quietly. 

“You changed your hair that year. You’d always been attractive, despite what I may have led you to believe, but your hair was shorter and I liked it better that way. And then,” he paused, taking a stuttering breath. “Then, we brewed Amortentia and mine smelled like you.” 

“Hang on, how did you know what I-”

“Apples, old books and candy quills. I knew it was you the minute that I smelled it and it was terrifying. Goyle asked me what I smelled and I made up some bollocks about leather and peppermint. But it was you. I knew it was you.”