Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned.
And, indeed, most of the students at Hogwarts that day that had the unfortunate experience of seeing Hermione blow down the hallways in a huff after Potions class had ended for the day were of that opinion. Knowing looks passed back and forth, and a few sniggered at the dramatic scene of her billowing off with her books, waiting for Harry and Ron to eventually come skidding down the stone floors after her. It didn't really take a genius to figure out what had most likely occurred, seeing as it happened on a fairly regular basis.
Professor Snape, no doubt, had been snarky and taken points from various Gryffindors for the grievous offense of breathing in his presence, and from Hermione for being the only one among them that had actually bothered to stay up late and study the night before. Neville had, despite Hermione's best efforts, probably created some horrible monstrosity of a failed potion, which had either caused him to sprout an extra set of ears or turned the floor into taffy or something equally ridiculous, and been cowered by the greasy potions instructor (not really all that much of a remarkable feat).
The incident had, most likely, caused the disgustingly pratty Draco Malfoy to begin teasing him ruthlessly, a sound that mysteriously seemed to slip under the radar of their teacher. It was odd, considering that he was considered to have quite sensitive ears, and could detect the slightest whisper against his homework assignments or a murmured hint from Hermione to one of her less able friends. While Hermione was a logical, reasonable (if a bit obsessive) creature with her studies, she was a bit less restrained in her impulsive, emotional responses.
A spar of words had ensued the instant class ended, with the (absurdly) brash Hermione loosing her formidable temper at the grinning Malfoy as he continued to jeer while Neville packed up his books. With a toss of her unmanageable mass of disobedient curls, Hermione had stormed out of the classroom before she was tempted to unleash a hex to end the ages (and destroy that perfectly smug little nose of his).
Draco and his cohorts, meanwhile, set off in the direction of their next class, laughing and joking with each other. The conversation was pretty pointless, just a few teenagers messing around. They weren't intending to bring about any cosmic displeasure or dare the wrath of the gods. That sort of thing generally doesn't tend to be something one does intentionally, in any case. Few people wake up and ponder ways in which they might manage to get themselves smitten by a lightning bolt.
Though Hermione would have delighted in the sight of him with his perfectly styled hair completely fried with the electricity and his eyebrows smoking.
For now, however, his hair still remained perfectly in place. "It's no wonder she doesn't have a boyfriend," Draco sneered as he adjusted the strap of his bag, speaking about the infuriating bookworm they had just parted ways with.
"I don't think there's a girl at this school I would want to go out with less then her," Crabbe remarked, then paused, quickly trying to retrace his words and assure himself that they did, indeed, make sense. He nearly tripped over his own feet. Apparently thinking and walking at the same time was a feat a little too advanced for his limited cognitive skills.
"Not even Amanda Winther?" Goyle asked, referring to a Ravenclaw that was short, stubby, currently stuck wearing braces, and had right eye that tended to drift in toward her nose every now and again.
Crabbe considered this a mount. "Well, maybe if it was just a snog. But to have to sit and listen to that chatterbox Granger drone on and on about house elf rights? I think I'd rather be chopped up into sizable bits and fed to the giant squid."
"Why are we even having this conversation?" Draco demanded, disgusted with the turn the conversation had taken. He quickened his pace, taking the lead a step or so ahead of his companions.
"Still a little sensitive over the whole "Romeo" thing?" Goyle asked smugly, thwacking the slighter boy across the shoulders.
"Sod off," Draco hissed.
"What was that? What do you mean "Romeo"?" Crabbe demanded, hated being left out of what appeared to be a very intriguing matter.
"Nothing," Draco insisted, trying to instill enough fear through the sheer force of his gaze in Goyle's general direction as to silence him.
No such luck.
"Pansy laughed so hard she right nearly burst into tears. One of her friends overheard some of the girls from Hufflepuff talking about Draco and his fighting with Granger and one of the girls said that she thought that, of all the people at Hogwarts, the two of them would be most like Romeo and Juliet, if they ever managed to fall in love, because of their different families and the political tension and everything."
Crabbe eyed Draco critically a moment. "You would be the worst Romeo ever, hands down."
"They were just some stupid third year Hufflepuffs," Goyle shrugged, "I'm sure Pansy hexed the one who dreamed up such a notion.
"I hope so. Romeo and Juliet were both complete morons, and their tale is more tragic stupidity then it is romantic," Draco said as they rounded a corner. "Not to mention the fact that she's a self-righteous little bitch."
"And the whole 'I hate you to the very depths of my soul' thing you two have going on," Crabbe added.
"I don't care what these starry-eyed twits say about love," Draco said with a cold certainty, "You love those who are worth your notice. That mudblood has nothing to offer me."
Crabbe and Goyle nodded their approval. Draco smirked, a steely look of superiority as they entered the Great Hall.
"Cupid himself couldn't make me fall in love with Granger."
Little did he know it, but those confidently spoken words had a drastic effect, one that was going to produce consequences of a great and terrible nature. The gods do not appreciate such boasts.
And so, high above in the great palace of Olympus, Cupid leapt to his feet out of the depths of his leather La-Z Boy arm chair (complete with gold plated cup holder), sputtering popcorn in indignation as he flung the rest of his snack haphazardly about.
"You would challenge me?" he yelled, throwing a handful of kernels at the Heavenly Broadcasting screen. He plunked back down into his seat, munching thoughtfully as he stared at the three boys as they consumed their lunch with gusto and complete naivete of the wrath they had invited down upon themselves. Cupid enjoyed watching the drama of Hogwarts, where the thick population of students combined with the spark of magic made for an interesting source of entertainment.
How dare the mortal issue a challenge against him. He was arrogant and handsome, traits that tended to go together, and he studied the images flashing by intently. He would teach this youth a lesson.
Cupid smirked. Besides, he had always thought that the school looked to be a vastly amusing place.
"Let's test this theory of yours, Draco Malfoy."