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Pigfarts, Pigfarts, Here We Come!! by Kat20
Chapter 3 : Chapter 3
 
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 Chapter 3

Disclaimer: HP belongs to J.K. Rowling. Pigfarts belongs to Starkid Productions. Everything that you don’t recognize belongs to me. This whole thing is really fluffy and weird. If you think it’s really stupid or don’t understand go look up A Very Potter Musical on YouTube. You will understand my inspiration.

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“You should be grateful that I’m not a Death Eater anymore, Granger,” Draco Malfoy said his sword lightly touching Hermione’s throat, “Or you would be dead. Now pick up your sword and let’s try again.” He pulled away quickly and Hermione sagged back, exhaustion beginning to catch up with her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Because Ferdie is sick. I told you to pick up your sword.”

Hermione didn’t move. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Malfoy said deliberately, as though speaking to a small child, “because I am taking over your tutoring until Ferdie gets better. Now. Pick. Up. Your. Sword, Granger.”

Hermione sighed and moved to pick it up, but the moment she turned her back on him, she felt his sword touch the back of her neck.

“Dead. Rule #1: Never turn your back on the enemy. Try again.” Malfoy removed his sword, and Hermione turned to face him.

Moving sideways, she stooped and scooped up her sword, keeping her eyes on Malfoy’s blade in case he tried anything. He didn’t.

She moved to the middle of the room, still facing him, and assumed her guard position.

Malfoy sheathed his sword and approached her. She watched him warily. He circled slowly around her, and then unexpectedly shoved her.

Hermione squeaked as she tumbled to the floor, her sword falling from her grasp as she curled up to protect herself from the ground. As soon as she hit, she felt Malfoy’s sword touch her back.

“Dead.” he said. “Get up, and I’ll show you what you were doing wrong.”

Glaring, Hermione stood, retrieved her sword and got back into her guard position.

“Rule #2: Keep your feet planted and your core strong. First of all, your feet are too close together. Your front foot should be here, your back foot here.” He said, using his feet to nudge hers farther apart. “A wider stance is a more stable stance. Your hands are wrong to. You need to hold your sword like this,” he demonstrated, “and for god’s sake, Granger, don’t throttle it. What did it ever do to you? Loosen up. Start the pattern.”

Hermione took a breath and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Starting the pattern, like you told me to.”

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

“Because it helps me concentrate.” Hermione felt the familiar cold touch of Malfoy’s rapier.

“Dead. Now try again, with your eyes open.”

Hermione opened her eyes and completed the set, returned to guard, and prepared to restart.

“Stop.” Malfoy said. “Look at your feet. They’re wrong. Look at your hands. I could knock that sword out of your grip in two seconds. Rule #3: A tense swordsman is a dead swordsman. Your too tense, you won’t be able to react properly. The tenser you are, the slower your reactions will be. Fix your position. No, that’s still wrong. Here.” He sheathed his sword, reached out and roughly positioned her properly. “Now don’t move.”

Malfoy went over to the chalk bag in the corner of the room, grabbed a chunk, and returned to Hermione. He traced the outline of her feet onto the floor, then replaced the chalk in the bag.

“You need to stay like this so that I can’t push you over.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s stable.” He shoved her. She didn’t even sway. “See? You can’t fall over if you’re in the right stance. Now try the combination from the top.”

Hermione glared at him, but she assumed her guard position and started. As soon as her sword was moving into the first strike, Malfoy brought his up to meet hers. She flinched at the blow. How the hell did he manage to draw his sword that quickly?

“Rule #4: If you flinch, you die. It shows weakness which I can take advantage of. And remember Rule #2? Keep your core strong. Absorb the blow into your shoulders and back instead of your arms.”

Hermione glared, tightened her stomach muscles and moved into the next strike.

“You need to strike using more than just your arms. Put your body weight behind it, Granger. Give me something to resist. Here, strike again, and this time, hold the blow and try to push me to the ground.”

Hermione did, putting as much force behind it as she could. She leaned in, putting all her weight on her front foot. Malfoy stepped back, and she fell to the ground again. His sword lowered, and touched her sternum.

“Dead. Get up and try again.”

__________________________________________________________________

Hermione limped back to the Green Room. Malfoy had kept her two hours later than Ferdie usually did, and he had caused her to fall, trip, and stumble almost every five minutes.

God, she hated that prick.

Four hours of working non-stop. Malfoy hadn’t even let her stop for water, and now she had a pounding headache from dehydration.

“Hey.” Harry said as she walked in.

Hermione grunted in response.

“Was Ferdie really that bad tonight?”

“Oh no. Ferdie was wonderful. He didn’t show up.”

“So, you stayed and practiced for four hours by yourself?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Nope.” Hermione replied, flopping into the chair next to him.

“But…” Harry trialed off confusedly.

“Draco, where were you?”

Hermione winced at Pansy’s shrill voice.

“What does it matter to you?” Malfoy asked tiredly, making his way into the room. Somehow he had showered and was looking as fresh as if he had not incessantly drilled her with exercises for the past four hours. Prick.

“You know I care. I was heartbroken when I heard that you had put off the wedding.”

Malfoy sank into a chair, pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and started to write a note before slowly saying, “Pansy, I called off the wedding. I didn’t put it off, I called it off. That means that I won’t be marrying you.”

“What are you talking about Dragon?” Pansy simpered, sinking onto the floor in front of Malfoy. “What about your father? His dying wish was that we get married. You don’t want to disappoint your father do you? And what about your mother? She has been planning this wedding since we were in diapers. You can’t mean that you’re calling off the wedding, Dragon, you can’t.”

“Stop calling me ‘Dragon’. My name is Draco.”

“But you were named Draco because that’s what Dragon is in Latin.”

“First of all, I was named Draco after an Athenian law-maker who also happened to be an influential wizard.”

“Oh.” Pansy said, standing up.

“And I am calling off the wedding and you can tell mother because I am never going back to Earth as long as I live.” Draco said harshly.

“And where will you stay, or work, or live? How do you plan on surviving?” Pansy demanded loudly, drawing the attention of the students still in the Green Room.

“I happen to be a favorite of The Guest and he has offered me a job after I graduate.” Malfoy stood up, shouldered his bag, and headed for the door.

“Who the hell is this bloody Guest?”

“I’ll give you a hint: APWBD.” and with that, Malfoy turned and stormed out of the Green Room.

“Well, that was a pleasant discussion.” Ron muttered sarcastically, coming over to sit beside Hermione.

Hermione nodded as she reached for her bag and to pull out her water bottle. As she did, she noticed a piece of parchment that hadn’t been there before.

She pulled it out and unfolded it.

Granger,

When I talked to Ferdie before your tutoring session, he said that you were absolutely hopeless as a swordswoman and that he was done trying to help you. I thought that you should at least be told. I honestly don’t know why I started to teach you, but to be honest, you’re not a completely awful student.

Ferdie is done tutoring you no matter what, but if you still want help, I suppose I can step in. Let me know if you’re interested.

Draco Malfoy

Hermione stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. What on earth? This was so out of character… but, then again, one of the first things that he had said was that he had changed…

“What’s that?” Ron asked, taking the paper from her hands.

“It’s a letter.” Hermione said. She opened her water bottle and raised it to take a drink as Ron took her arm and forcibly turned her towards him, splashing water all over her.

“What’d you do that for?” Hermione asked, picking at her wet clothes.

“What is this?” Ron asked angrily.

“It’s a letter.”

“Why is he writing to you?”

“Because he wanted to offer to tutor me.” Hermione said, annoyed. “I should think that was obvious.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“That’s nice Ron. Can I have it back please?”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione gaped at him.

“No. I don’t want you having anything to do with Ferret.”

“You can’t control me Ron. What’s gotten into you?”

“He’s up to something Hermione. I don’t want you going near him.”

“Well, thank you for your concern, but I don’t think you have a right to dictate my life or sensor my mail. Now give it back.”

“Only if you promise not to tell him yes.”

“Ron–”

“Promise me Hermione.”

“Fine. Now give it back.”

Ron handed her the letter and Hermione took her bag and went to get ready for bed.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way that Ron had behaved. He was usually jealous, sure, but he never tried to control her. She stayed up late thinking about it. 

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“Hermione, what are you doing? Get up! Class starts in ten minutes!!”

Hermione groaned and stuffed her head under her pillow trying to ignore Ginny.

“Get up!” Ginny shrieked again, yanking her blankets off the bed. Hermione curled up into a ball, trying to keep her body heat contained.

Aguamenti!

Hermione shrieked indignantly as the jet of water soaked her thoroughly. “Ginny Weasly, I’m gonna kill you!”

“Just do it after class.” Ginny called over her shoulder as she bolted out the door.

Hermione let out a small whimper as her muscles stretched. She felt like Malfoy had tied her muscles into a million knots and bunches, then set a torch to them. They burned like hell.

She grabbed her towel, which was still wet from the night before, and then limped her way to the showers and stood under the stream of hot water, letting the warm temperature relax her muscles and massage out some of the knots.

Before long Hermione heard the warning bell sound, and she jumped out of the shower and pulled her uniform on quickly, buckling her belt and holster as she ran down the hall, making it just in time.

Magical Mysteries and Paradoxes of Space interesting as ever as they looked at a computer found in the outer reaches of space that had computed the answer 42 and had designed the computer that was working on the question. Before long it was lunch and then Intermediate Swordsmanship.

Hermione changed quickly and tied her hair back before lining up along the walls of the studio with the rest of the class.

Swordsmaster Numpshion strolled into the class and called for them all to gather around.

“I have a special treat for you all, my darlings. At the beginning of next month we will have a school wide siege. You will be spilt up into armies with teachers as commanders and will do your very best to take Pigfarts. That means that we will be doing quite a bit more work to get you all battle ready. That being said, today you will each present the pattern dance that you have been working on, and we will critique.  Weasly, you may go first.”

Ron went to the center of the room and doggedly completed the pattern. After him, Hannah Abbot preformed it, and then Pansy Parkinson, then a few of the regular Pigfarts students.

“And, now, Granger, if you would.” Numpshion said, resignedly.

Hermione swallowed her trepidation and took the middle of the floor, drawing her sword, and assuming her guard position.

She recalled Malfoy nudging her feet apart the other night, and widened her stance, loosening the death grip that she had on the hilt of the sword as well.

She was tempted to close her eyes, but she knew better by now. She brought her sword up, shifting her weight and adjusting her hands, trying to remember every correction that Malfoy had hammered into her head the night before.

She was concentrating so much, that she completely forgot that the rest of the class was watching, focusing simply on the strength behind her blows and on keeping her balance.

She completed the last strike and stopped, holding her position before sheathing her sword and glancing towards Numpshion to see his reaction. He was watching her oddly.

“Well, that was certainly an improvement. Keep getting better at that rate, and you may end up top of the class by the time you need to leave. Zabini, if you would.”

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A/N: So I wasn’t planning on making this a sword-fighting-ish based story but that’s where this is heading. Sorry!!! I will try to add more Pigfarts stuff. 

The inspiration for the swordsmanship element is from AVPM Ron Weasly and the Sword of Gryffindor. I think he says something about how every wizard should have magic swords instead of "these stupid things" (meaning his wand which he promptly chucks off stage. Oh, Joey Richter).

R&R

Kat


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