"Don't touch me," Hermione spat as the two of them walked side-by-side down the street.
Malfoy made no attempts to remove his arm from around her shoulders. "My rules, doll."
Hermione's jaw tightened. "Well, could you at least not call me 'doll?'"
"Why? Do you not like it?"
"I hate it. I hate all sexist pet names, but especially that one. I'm no man's toy, Malfoy."
"Excellent. This date is already a success. We're not even to the restaurant, and you're already going off on feminist rants. Now," he said, tightening his grip on her shoulders, "remember what I want you to call me tonight."
She really would rather die. With suppressed bloodlust simmering in her veins, she whispered, "Studmuffin."
"Mmm." He slid his arm down to her waist and squeezed. "I'm definitely going to have to put this entire evening into a Pensieve for myself."
"You're a stone-cold atrocity," she said evenly.
He looked at her expectantly. "I'm a stone-cold atrocity...what?"
She took a deep breath. "You're a stone-cold atrocity...studmuffin."
The smug look on his face would have looked a lot better smacked off of him. "I've got an excellent evening planned for us, Granger."
"I'm going to stop you right there. I feel I need to be clear about something." It probably wasn't necessary for her to even mention, but she needed to clear the air. "This is not...I mean...you and I aren't actually..." She cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, pushing it all out in one breath, "I'm-not-going-to-have-sex-with-you-Malfoy."
His face went from giddy to alarmed the moment she breathed her unexpected declaration. "Whoa, whoa. Look, Granger, I know I kid around a lot, but you have to know that I would never ask you to—"
"I didn't exactly think you would. But...I just wanted to be clear. The worst date ever does not include you taking me home and us having the worst sex ever to consummate this event."
He scoffed. "Shows how little you know me. Any sex you would ever have with me—in a totally consensual, non-bet-losing way—would be the best ever. I slay arse, okay? You should be so lucky."
Her eyes hardened. "Not even if it would cure cancer, Malfoy."
He looked genuinely annoyed now. "Yeah, yeah. I get it, Granger. You don't want to fuck me. And you're in luck. Because It just so happens that I am not interested in fucking you either."
She snorted. "You mean you've been hitting on me nonstop all evening because you don't want to sleep with me?"
He scoffed. "Please. I've been half-arsing it. When I come onto you for real, you'll know it."
"I think you're full of shit."
He shrugged. "Believe what you want, Granger. But I am not in the least bit attracted to you."
She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it. She certainly didn't like the guy, nor did she want to encourage his (supposedly) half-arsed sexual advances, but she needed to prove a point. Which was why she found herself leaning into him, making certain that he could see down her dress. "Oh no? Not even a little."
He was doing a damn fine job of keeping a straight face. A normal person would probably think he wasn't interested. But Hermione Granger wasn't a normal person. She was an Auror, trained in the art of observation.
His pupils dilated ever-so-slightly, signaling the presence of an arousing stimulus. His nostrils flared, indicating that he was subconsciously collecting some sort of olfactory data—an evolutionary trait humans hadn't quite kicked yet. His Adam's apple bobbed a fraction in his throat, suggesting that something was causing a surplus of saliva to collect in his mouth.
He shrugged. "Nice try, Granger, but my penis doesn't even register that you're a female presence."
What a fucking liar.
She leaned into him a bit more, making certain that her breasts were rubbing against his side. "I don't believe you."
He swallowed again, audibly this time. "Don't play with me, Granger. Just because I said you've got a nice body doesn't mean I want to do dirty things to it."
She almost stumbled in her Beyonce heels. There was something about the way he casually dropped the words, "dirty things," that took her back a bit. Maybe it was the snappy drawl he always used when someone backed him into a corner. It was a trait that dated back to their Hogwarts days, and it was never, ever something Hermione considered attractive. But when he used it to suggest that "dirty things" might done to her, by him nonetheless...
She had never considered it before. He had always been too annoying and condescending for her to remotely entertain the idea. But she supposed...from a purely theoretical viewpoint...that Malfoy could objectively be considered attractive.
He leered at her chest. "Although, I do appreciate that you decided to go sans bra tonight, doll. If you dressed like this more often, maybe a shit date with me wouldn't be the highlight of your social life."
Then again, ew. She shouldn't even go there. He was too blond, too pale, too pointy, and too Malfoy. He probably was one of those guys who pumped over a woman for three minutes before collapsing on top of her and asking if she "got there" before passing out. It didn't matter that he was essentially a visual feast in his suit and that he smelled like he looked—like a man with a sharp jawline who was born on a bed of money.
Suddenly she was too close.
This evening was destined to be a crap shoot, and it was best just to grin and bear it. "What's first on our agenda, Malfoy?"
"Dinner."
"Dinner." Okay. That didn't sound so bad.
"At Wetherspoon's."
She grimaced. "Wetherspoons?"
"Now, don't be a snob, Granger. You wouldn't want to give the impression you were ungrateful."
"That's rich. I have actually heard you refer to fish and chips as 'poor people food.' What possible reason could you have for taking me to Wetherspoons?"
"I've heard they have excellent cocktail pitchers. But most importantly, they have the lowest Yelp rating of any pub or restaurant in South London."
"You do realize that you will also hate it. Possibly even more than I will."
He put a hand on his chest. "As long as you're miserable, Granger, I will give it five stars."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I hope you like soggy chips and spotty silverware, you little...what is that?"
"It's beginning to look a lot like Chriiistmaaas. Eeeeverywheeere you goooo."
Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Is that...?"
The sound was getting louder.
"Take a look at the five and ten. It's glistening once again."
She released a small laugh. "Someone needs to tell those kids that it's April."
Malfoy looked positively evil in that moment, which is what tipped Hermione off that he had something to do with whatever the hell was going on. "I believe they're already aware of that fact," he said.
"But the prettiest sight to see..."
It was getting louder.
"Is the HOLLY THAT WILL BEEEEE..."
Hermione's eyes widened as the children's choir approached her and Malfoy. "Oh, hell no."
"ON YOUR OOOOOWN FROOONT DOOOOOR!!!!!"
Malfoy's eyes twinkled. "Fantastic, aren't they?"
"Malfoy, why the bloody hell is there a children's choir crashing our date?"
He instantly straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "Did you know that various studies have been performed to discover what type of music is most universally abhorred by adults in the United Kingdom?"
"Fascinating," Hermione drawled.
"Indeed. And apparently, the overwhelming winner is Christmas carols performed by children's choirs."
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't say."
"I do, Granger. I do."
"Don't these kids have a bedtime? They can't possibly follow us around all evening, can they?"
"You're forgetting something vital, Granger. I'm bloody, stinking rich. I have handsomely compensated these children in the form of generous donations to their university funds. Their parents were so delighted; they completely ignored the fact that a strange man asked to purchase their children's services for the evening." He shook his head. "Honestly, I will never understand Muggles. Don't they watch Dateline?"
"GRANDMA GOT RUN OVER BY A REINDEEEEER. WALKING HOME FROM OUR HOUSE CHRISTMAS EEEEEVE."
Hermione growled. It was going to be a long evening.
*
Dinner was awful.
Malfoy rented a room in the back, thereby ensuring that the children's choir would be adequately accommodated. Hermione was treated to a headache-inducing serenade all throughout her dry, bland shepherd's pie.
When she tried to order a cocktail pitcher to make the meal more tolerable, Malfoy pulled the waitress by the hand and whispered in her ear, loud enough for Hermione to hear, "Would you please be a love and make it a virgin cocktail? She's a recovering alcoholic, and I promised I would be there for her should the urge to drink become too overwhelming. It's why I hired the children's choir. It helps her remember a simpler time when alcohol didn't run her life."
The waitress put a hand to her heart and declared that Malfoy was, in her opinion, the sweetest man in the history of the world. So, of course, Hermione not only was denied the deliverance of alcohol but was also forced to endure the humiliation of being a perceived alcoholic. Plus, the waitress—Melanie, as she insisted Malfoy call her—continued to be overly friendly to him through the duration of the meal, and he, in true Malfoy fashion, encouraged her attention by flirting outrageously with her and ignoring Hermione completely.
It was humiliating.
Granted, Hermione was not jealous. She and Malfoy were barely even cordial co-workers, much less anything resembling something that would give her the right to be jealous. It was merely the principle of the thing that bothered her. Common decency dictated that it was, quite simply, rude to flirt with other women in front of one's date. Even if it was a fake date.
And as for Melanie...
Hermione didn't feel at all contrite when she threw a mild Stinging Hex her way when she put her hand on Malfoy's shoulder, rubbing slutty little circles down his arm.
"Ouch!"
"Something wrong, doll?" Malfoy asked.
"No, um...I..." Melanie held herself up when she caught Hermione's cool glare. "I should get your check."
"Checks!" Malfoy said, correcting her. "We're splitting the bill."
"Rrright," Melanie said as she swished away, rubbing her bum and mumbling under her breath.
Hermione allowed herself the luxury of a private smirk as she watched the rude young woman walk away. Maybe that would teach her some manners the next time she waited on an actual couple. No wonder this place had such a low Yelp rating.
"Bit immature, don't you think, Granger?" Draco asked with an all-knowing smirk plastered across his infuriating, pretty man-face.
"IIIIIIII SAW MUMMY KISSING SAAAAAANTA CLAAAAAAUS."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right. Because nothing about this evening is in any way petty or childish."
"You were jealous."
"I was bored. You've been nothing but awful company the entire evening, not that I expected anything less. I had to entertain myself in some way."
He smirked. "I apologize. You're quite right. Despite the fact that this date is supposed to be terrible, I really should do a better job to keep you engaged."
She didn't like the way he said that. "Dare I ask what you mean by that?"
"Are you finished with your pudding?"
"Am I finished with the cheesecake I couldn't eat because I'm lactose intolerant? Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you ever so much for asking."
"Excellent. I wouldn't want us to be late."
He seemed anxious to leave and chipper at the prospect of the next phase in the evening, so Hermione knew whatever was in store for her was sure to be a newly discovered flavor of Hell. She sighed. "What exactly are we doing next?"
"OH, WHAT A LAUGH IT WOULD HAVE BEEEEN, IF DADDY HAD ONLY SEEEEN MUMMY KISSING SANTA CLAAAAAAUS LAAAAAAAST NIIIIIIGHT!!!!"
Malfoy clapped. Hermione glowered. "Excellent work, children. I'm afraid the lady, and I are going somewhere you're all not allowed, so I'm sorry to say that we will need to bid you all farewell."
"AWWWWW!"
"I know, I know. But you were delightful. The lady enjoyed it very much, didn't you?" He nudged her side.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes. Thank you. It was...lovely."
"You've made our evening so very special. Thank you. Now, say goodnight to the pretty lady."
"GOODNIGHT, PRETTY LADY."
Malfoy extended his arm. "Shall we, doll?"
She glared as she took it, raising her chin a few inches. Like hell, he would get to her. "Lead the way, studmuffin."