Draco in Muggle Clothes
by deathjunke


Title: Playing the Cad
Author: Grander
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: Soft R
Genre: Romance/Humor
: Masturbation (mostly implied), course language, sexual innuendo
Word Count: ~7300
Summary: Draco drives Hermione crazy, but not in a good way. What happens when he realizes he might have feelings for her? Can he change his ways before she kills him?
Author's Note: This story definitely paid homage to one of my favorite Dramione stories of all time, Gonads and Strife by Flaming Moth of Doom (aff.net). Hers is much funnier and sexier than this one, so check it out!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Draco groaned when he stepped into his common room. He'd forgotten all about Muggle Movie Mondays, an inane custom Hermione started the first week of the school year. It was bad enough that he had to share the spoils of being Head Boy with the annoying little know-it-all, but having his common room crammed with every mudblood in Hogwarts once a week was proving to be a sore test of his patience.

And this week was the worst yet. All of the furniture and most of the floor was covered by sobbing, sputtering girls as they watched whatever shite movie Hermione had picked out. Gods, the fact that so much Muggle trivia had infiltrated his consciousness was horrid enough. But Hermione deserved a solid thrashing for contaminating his mind with the sight of so much blubbering.

"What's wrong girls? Did you all catch your period at the same time?"

"Shut up, Draco," Hermione hissed as she wiped her nose with a handkerchief, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"What are we watching, ladies?" Draco teased as he forced his way onto the couch, wedging in between Hermione and Katie Bell.

"Just shut up and watch it or leave," Hermione whispered.

Projected onto the wall from the metal contraption Hermione had charmed to play her movie selections was a scene of blindingly insipid stupidity. Some bloke in a skin-tight, shiny black suit with knives for hands was getting his arse handed to him by some other bloke with regular hands.

"Why doesn't he just stab him with his thumb?" Draco waved his hands in the air as if they were swords.

"Shut up, Malfoy! You're ruining it!" Hermione ground her elbow into his ribs to emphasize the point.

"Easy, Granger! I was just wondering how you're supposed to fight a guy with knives for hands. Oi! See, see, he stabbed him, just like I said. Way to go, Choppy!"

"That's it!" Hermione growled as she snapped her wand at the projector, freezing the movie. "Get out right now, Draco!" she huffed, pointing towards the door. The gallery of weeping mudbloods expressed their agreement in a chorus of snuffly 'Yeahs'.

"No," he said defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to see the end."

"You're about to see the end of my fist. Now, either sit there silently or leave. Take your pick."

That-a girl, he thought as he watched her breasts swell in anger. He just loved getting Hermione all riled up. If he had to suffer through having his private quarters stuffed with a bunch of mopey, doe-eyed girls—none of whom were there to fuck him or suck his cock, by the way—then he was absolutely going to make the most of it.

Running his thumb and forefinger over his lips as if they were a zipper, Draco flashed Hermione his biggest, closed-mouth smile then patted the vacant cushion. The fabric was still warm from her arse, and Draco was tempted to sneak his hand back onto it as Hermione turned and sat down.

That naughty little minx of a mudblood was constantly sending him mixed signals. Like last week, for instance, when she skipped downstairs in nothing but a t-shirt and knickers. She'd acted so surprised to finding him on the couch studying, claiming that she thought he was scheduled to practice Quidditch. Covering her bum with a pillow, she'd raced back up the stairs, but not before Draco had gotten a healthy eyeful of the thong running between her arse cheeks.

And what beautiful pair of arse cheeks they were, he thought as her heat warmed the side of his body. He was so distracted thinking about her bum that he nearly missed out on making fun of the movie. One minute, he's watching some hot little blonde getting all steamy over Sir-Chops-A-Lot and next thing you know, she's withered away into an old lady. These Muggles had a bloody cruel sense of humor. His face pulled down in disgust.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and declare this to be the worst, most brain numbing piece of tripe ever, the strangest thing happened. Hermione lifted her feet onto the couch, and in re-settling her body, pressed her arse tight against his thigh.

If there was one thing Draco had a weakness for, it was the supple, succulent flesh of a female's backside. Barring have seen the better part of Hermione's backside last week, this little intrusion onto his leg might have gone relatively unnoticed. But he knew what she had encased within those denims, and it was all he could think about as a collective wail went up around him at whatever was going on on-screen.

"I can't believe she never saw him again."

"He wouldn't have cared that she got older."

"This is just so sad."

"This was worse than my great-grandmother's eightieth birthday party, and I got hexed during that," Draco griped as he nudged his leg further under Hermione's rump. "Twice."

"Thank you for managing to hold on to that little tidbit until after the movie was over," Hermione said, failing to react when he slipped another several centimeters of his thigh beneath her. "Okay girls, next week our movie is Seven Years in Tibet. It stars Brad Pitt as an Austrian mountain climber who meets the Dalai Lama and it changes his life. Brad Pitt is just ace, right? I can't get enough of him."

"Oh, I know," Katie Bell chimed in to the right of him. "He's so brilliant!"

"He's so brilliant!" Draco mocked in an annoyed sing-song. "You birds are daft if you ask me."

"No one did, Malfoy," Hermione huffed as she stood up and opened the door. "Don't forget to do a little research into Buddhism before the film. Oh, and let's meet up a little earlier next week to try and avoid having a certain someone make it back from practice before the movie's over." She answered Draco's wounded expression with a snarky grin.

Once all the tissue clutching bints had sniffed and snuffed their way out the portal, Draco turned his full attention to the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

"You can't dis-invite me to your movie nights. I live here too, if you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, as much as I'd like to pretend you don't exist sometimes, I am painfully aware that you live here," she said as she set about straightening up the common room.

"What is it with you girls and your need to cry all the time?" Draco asked as he fingered Hermione's video machine. "I mean, do you get some sort of emotional rush from it? Does a big sobfest make you feel a sense of solidarity with your fellow witches?"

"Maybe if you had any feelings inside that bloody heart of yours," she huffed as she snatched the metal rectangle out of his hands, "you'd understand the cathartic experience of shar— Oh! If you're just going to pull faces I'm going to bed."

"No, please, Hermione," he said, lounging off the back of the sofa and watching her as best he could with his head hung upside down. "You have to tell me more about the cathartic experience of blubbering over a make-believe bloke with knifey hands."

Hermione started up the stairs, but turned midway to the top. Her arse looked marvelous from this angle, so Draco flipped over and rested his chin on his fist, his eyes raking over her as he awaited further words of wisdom.

"And don't, for a minute, think I didn't notice your leg working its way under my arse. For someone who takes so much pride in his cunning, you can be especially dense sometimes." Hermione turned back around and climbed the remaining stairs, closing the door behind her as she retreated to her bedroom.

Flopping down onto the couch, Draco let Hermione's words sink in for a minute before he jumped to standing and bounded up the stairs. Flinging open her door, he was rewarded for the second time in one week with the glorious sight of her arse as Hermione scrambled to pull up her pajama bottoms.

"Draco!" she cried. "It's called knocking! Now get out!"

"Calm down, Granger," he said with a grin as he crossed over to her bed and laid down. "Nothing I haven't seen before. No need to get your knickers all twisted." He crossed his arms under his head as he sent her a wink. "And I've seen your knickers. You don't want them twisting any farther up your arse."

"Draco Malfoy," she steamed, grabbing up her wand and pointing it in his direction, "get off of my bed right this instant!"

"Not until you explain yourself. What was that bit about me being dense supposed to mean?"

"Gah! If I have to explain it to you, you really are dense. Work it out! But do it in your own room," she said, yanking on his arm to pull him off her bed, "and in your own bed."

"Take it easy, love," he said as he pulled her over him and threw her down on the empty side of the bed. Draco slipped his knee over her belly, pinning her down as he sat on her hips and quickly grabbing up her hands as she began to flail at him. Pressing her arms down to either side of her head, Draco smiled at the captive witch. "Now, where were we?"

"You were getting off of me and out of my room." Hermione was mad, but she wasn't quite mad enough.

"Why? I kind of like you in this position. On a bed, helpless and underneath me." Gods, how he wanted to just pounce on her. And what was with Hermione, anyway? Acting so coy. As if she didn't want him. She had to have heard about his skills by now—he knew how gossipy girls were. He counted on it, in fact.

"I'm sure that while many girls would just love to be in this position, Draco, I am not one of them!" That last part was growled out as she bucked her hips off the bed, the force of it sending Draco flying over the side and crashing to the floor.

"Have you gone mad? You could have killed me!" he griped, picking himself up off the floor and checking for damage. "Those hips of yours are a bloody menace."

"Try something like that again, Malfoy, and I'll hex you into next week," she barked, scrambling off the far side of the bed and flinging her door wide open. "Now get out!"

"Fine." His eyes narrowed as he approached Hermione. "But this conversation isn't over," he said as he wagged his finger in front of Hermione's face, emphasizing his last word with a quick tap to her nose.

He was barely over the threshold when the door slammed behind him. "Hey!" he cried as the vibrations echoed through his back.

Thoughts of Hermione Granger danced through his head as he paced across the hall and stripped out of his clothes. He took a moment to admire his physique in the full length mirror he'd had installed when he first moved in to the Head Boy's dorm.

"Look at me, I'm bloody perfect. Perfect! Do you hear me!" he yelled at the closed door. He wasn't totally sure, but it sounded like she shouted "Sod Off" in reply.

That little mudblood doesn't know what she's missing, Draco thought as he flexed and preened. A frustrated sigh puffed out his cheeks as he flopped onto his bed and tried to figure out when it was, exactly, that he had developed a thing for Hermione Granger.

"It's not a thing! Don't say it's a thing," he muttered out loud. "I merely want to fuck the witch," he told himself. His pride assuaged, he allowed his hand to drift down to his cock as he indulged in his fantasy dujour.

Working through the jumble of thoughts clouding his head, Draco slid his hand over his length as he replayed the feel of Hermione struggling between his legs. She wants me, he thought as his fingers teased along his silken skin.

In short order, he was arching off the mattress as visions of a certain bushy haired brunette caressed his mind. As his breathing returned to normal, he promised himself that he'd get in her pants before they left for holiday.

But what the hell did she mean about him being dense?


The next morning, Draco was awoken by the sound of banging and griping followed quickly by the slam of his door into the wall as it was thrown open.

"Did you really think the proper place to dispose of your straight razor was in my toiletry case?"

"Huh?" he muttered, swiping at the sleep in his eyes as he propped himself up on an elbow. "What time is it?"

"It's time for you to take some responsibility around here. I'm not your bloody house elf."

"I don't know what you're—hey, where'd you find my razor?" Draco's eyes had finally come into focus, and he was happy to see the pearl handled blade in Hermione's hands, considering he thought he'd lost the damn thing. But as his eyes took in the remainder of the petite brunette, what was in her hands lost all importance.

She was still wearing her pajama bottoms from the night before, but gone was the baggy Chudley Cannons t-shirt. In its place was the barest slip of a camisole, it's silky, pink fabric clinging to Hermione's breasts in all the right ways. He couldn't believe his eyes, rubbing them again, wondering if he'd slipped back into sleep. But no, Hermione really was wearing a thin little tank top that plunged dangerously low between her tits and collected in tantalizing circles around the peaks of her nipples.

"Keep your stuff where it belongs," Hermione said as she approached the bed. "I could have cut myself with this." As she threw the razor down on the sheets, her eyes blatantly followed the length of Draco's body up to his bare chest.

Draco was struck dumb, both by the cobwebs of sleep still collected in his head and the way that Hermione's breasts swayed under the thin layer of silk. It wasn't until she turned and walked out the door that Draco glanced at the shaving tool laying next to his hip, turning three shades of red in the process. The sheets above his groin were tented up as his morning erection stood at full attention.

Collapsing back onto the pillows, Draco's hand wandered down to the source of his embarrassment. Hermione had been looking downright sexy lately, and his body was responding to it. Most nights, when he wasn't otherwise occupied, he lulled himself to sleep by wanking off to the brunette. Getting into her pants was almost becoming an obsession.

The sound of the shower played in the background, calling forth visions of a naked, wet Head Girl. His hand moved faster over his length as he imagined barging in on her and slamming her up against the tile wall. Draco could just feel her legs squeezing around his hips as he entered her, her soft little moans of surrender filling his head.

It didn't take long before he was in need of his own shower. As he laid there, waiting for the bathroom to clear out, he was struck with the most amazing thought: Hermione was purposely trying to turn him on!

That had to be it. Why else would she come into his room first thing in the morning wearing something so provocative? She probably wanted to catch him naked, that's why. And now her cheeky little peep show made so much more sense, as did her comment about him being dense.

Excitement itched his skin; he couldn't wait to throw his discovery in her face. Let's see how she wriggles out of this one, he thought, dashing into the loo for a quick clean up as soon as he heard her bedroom door close.

Disappointment burned bright when he bounded into the common room ten minutes later to find she'd already left. Their confrontation would have to wait until later, which was probably just as well. He'd planned on staying in the Slytherin dorm tonight and sexing up Pansy Parkinson, but sexing up Hermione Granger would work just as well, if not better. After he surprised her with the fact that he knew all about her little scheme to seduce him, he'd turn on the charm.

He was on to Hermione's coy little tease. That naughty little mudblood was as good as laid.


"Oh, good. You're back."

Hermione glanced up at Draco as he entered the room, but her attention quickly reverted back to the book in her lap. Draco slid in next to her, plucking the text from her grip as he curled an arm around her. "Miss me?" he whispered into her ear.

"Loads," Hermione said, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue just another part of her game. Although, the elbow digging into his chest was not particularly pleasant. Must be her inexperience in matters of amoré. A smooth smile graced his lips as he let her pointed appendage move him farther away. He was going to enjoy schooling Hermione in the art of seduction. Although, the sooner she figured out that physical pain was not the way to his heart, the better.

"I think we need to talk about something," he said, catching one of her curls in his hand and winding the honey-colored lock around his finger.

"Yeah," Hermione said, pulling her hair out of his hand and leaning forward to grab her notebook off the table, "we do. Next week's schedule needs to be changed. Romilda's grandmother died, so she won't be around on Tuesday and Wednesday due to the funer— What exactly do you think you're doing?"

His fingers paused halfway through tracing the letter A over her back. Girls loved it when you stroked them, and he always thought spelling out his name was a nice touch.

"What? Don't you like it?"

"It's distracting, not to mention inappropriate. What's gotten into you Draco?"

Hermione was playing her role perfectly.

"Exactly what you wanted to get into me, Hermione. I know exactly what's going on around here," he said, swirling his finger around in a circle. "And I like it."

Hermione looked genuinely perplexed. Gods, she was a good actress.

"Are you feeling okay? You didn't hit your head when I kicked you off my bed last night, did you?"

Her scent was clawing at his senses. How was it that he'd never noticed until now how good she smelled? Like a garden filled with jasmine blossoms after a light rain.

The most delicious pink flush was rising on her chest. Draco followed the color where it disappeared underneath her uniform top, which was unbuttoned to an almost daring degree. If he moved his neck just so he could almost see to the top of her breasts.

"Ow!" he cried as Hermione elbowed him in the chest. "What was that for?"

"For looking down my shirt!" she exclaimed as she jumped up to standing. "Honestly, Draco, I might not know what counts for proper behavior amongst pure-bloods. But if you're representative, then I'm glad I was born to Muggles."

Draco smiled up at her; this was going to be more fun than he thought. Her chest was heaving in just the way he liked it. He couldn't stand it anymore.

"I think you know exactly what's happening here, Hermione," he said, keeping his voice low and silky as he stood up next to her.

Hermione backed away a bit, her eyes caught in his gaze. "What are you doing, Draco? This isn't funny."

"It's not supposed to be funny," he said, advancing on her. Hermione stumbled around a chair as she continued her backwards trajectory. "I know what you've been doing, with your sexy knickers and silky little tanks."

"I ... I don't know what you're talking about," she stuttered as her back hit the wall.

Draco closed the distance between them, caging her in with his arms. "I'm not so dense anymore, am I, Hermione?" he asked as his eyes raked across her body. "I know you want me. Just admit it now and we'll have that much more time tonight to sweat-up my sheets."

Hermione's face screwed up in a most unpleasant expression. "You think I—? Sweaty sheets? Gods, you're disgusting," she cried, pushing him away from her and ducking under his arms. "For the life of me, I can't understand how you managed to bed half the girls in this school. You're bloody clueless!"

Draco watched in shock as Hermione stormed up to her bedroom. Slumping against the wall, he went over the scene in his head, wondering where he went wrong.

All those books have made her mental, he thought.

If it weren't for the fact that he had, in fact, bedded almost all of the quality females at Hogwarts, he might have taken her rejection more seriously. But instead, he decided to change his tack. To turn the tables on Hermione, and see how she liked it when he played coy.

He'd ignore her all week, if that's what it took.

And, as a matter of fact, it did.

By the time Monday rolled around, Draco had abandoned his scheme to ignore Hermione into his bed, deciding instead to go back to plain old bugging the shite out of her. Skipping out of practice extra early, he hurried back to his dorm so that he could visit as much charm as possible upon Hermione's movie group.

A curious sight greeted him as he rounded the last corner. All of the dithering, blathering mudbloods from last week were filing out of the portal instead of in.

Damn it, he thought. Hermione's sneakier than I thought. I've missed the whole bloody thing. Shoving past a whimpering third year, he stormed into the common room to find a sullen Hermione Granger sitting across from a blank wall.

"What's going on? Don't tell me I missed the movie!"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow, sending Draco an exasperated look as she pursed her lips together. "I got the wrong movie."

Draco blinked a few times before responding, "I don't get it. Isn't one stupid Muggle movie the same as another? Doesn't seem to explain why all the moaning Myrtles would up and leave."

Sighing tiredly, Hermione flicked her wand at the metal box. "No, Draco, all Muggle movies are not the same. So while this is a Brad Pitt movie, it is not an uplifting tale about the power of peace and love.

"That's bloody disgusting," Draco whispered as he sat down next to Hermione. "That bloke actually ate himself to death?"

"I should have known you'd like this sort of thing."

"Wait. Where are you going?" Draco asked, catching Hermione's wrist when she stood up and started for her room. "Aren't you going to watch it with me?"

"Why should I? You'll just make fun of it the whole way through and I'm not completely sure that I even want to see it." She sent an accusatory look at the screen.

"Oh, come on Hermione. I promise to be good. And hey, there's Brat Pitt. He's ace."

"It's Brad, not brat," she sighed as she sat back down. "One stupid crack from you and I'm shutting it off. I mean it, Draco."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, pulling the bowl of crisps towards him. "Put it back at the start. Can you do that?"

He was not at all pleased with the annoyed look she shot him as she waved her wand over the box.

"What's a deadly sin?" Draco whispered about ten minutes in.

"They're kind of like Unforgivables. People whose lives are characterized by a deadly sin can't get into heaven."

"What's a heaven?" he asked, shoveling a handful of crisps into his mouth as he watched the screen like a zombie.

Hermione waved her wand and stopped the film. "Are you planning on munching crisps and talking through the whole movie?"

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused by her anger. "I'm just asking about your culture. This movie's great, by the way! You Muggles are a twisted lot, I'll give you that."

"I'm not a Muggle, Draco," she sighed. "Gods, even when you're not trying to be a git, you're a git."

"Sorry, I forgot. You're a mudbl—"

"See, there it is," she said, snatching up her video box and storming over to the stairs. "Every time I start thinking that there might be the tiniest spark of something nice in you, you go and show me your true colors. Good night, Malfoy."

"Wait a minute, Granger," he cried as he watched her backside climb the stairs. "Don't take that away—I need to see the ending!"

Deep lines furrowed his brow when her door slammed shut.

"Aw, come on," he shouted as he made his way up the stairs. "Don't be like that, Granger. Listen, I'm sorry I called you a mudblood," he said to the wood of her door.


"I don't even think of it as an insult anymore. It's more of a, a, a term of endearment."


"Tell you what. You can punch me in the gut if you want, you know, to make things ev—"

Draco nearly fell over when her door swung open and Hermione's fist flew into his stomach.

"This does not mean we're even!" she yelled as the door slammed in his face.

Clutching his belly, Draco stumbled backwards until he was leaning against the opposite wall.

"That was a belting swing," he gasped. "Way to put your hip into it, Hermione."

"Oh shut up!" she yelled before a surge of music thrummed out from under her door.

As soon as his abdominal muscles unclenched enough for him to stand properly, he turned his attention to the wooden barrier in front of him.

"Hermione!" he yelled as he pounded on the door. "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Her— Oh, hello."

An angry blush was blooming across the brunette's cheeks as she darkened the doorway.

"What do you want, Draco?" she asked. Draco marveled at her ability to speak with such a firmly clenched jaw.

"Are you going to come back down and finish the movie with me? I promise to be on my best behavior. Please!"

"If you want to watch it so badly," she huffed as she turned back into her room, "then here." She stuffed the metal box into his hands. "Watch it yourself."

Hermione made to close the door, but Draco snuck his foot in at the last moment.

"But half the fun is watching it with you," he complained, leaning his head against the door frame and putting on his most conciliatory face. "Aw, come on, Granger. I said I was sorry. Am I really that awful?"

Hermione took in a deep breath, letting out a pained sigh on the exhale. "No, Draco. You're not that awful. Not all the time, anyway. Which makes the times when you are awful all that much worse." A shimmer of tears had brightened her eyes. Draco was thoroughly confused, unsure of what was really upsetting her but still wanting to say something to put things right.

"But you have to come down. I don't know how to work your muggle stuff."

He quickly realized that the wrong thing to say.

"I'm sure a thoroughly magical being such as yourself will be able to figure it out with out the help of someone with such dirty, inferior blood!"

Kicking his foot out of the way, Hermione slammed the door, muttering a locking spell as soon as it was shut.

"Bollocks." Draco stared at the closed door for a moment before taking the movie box downstairs. After fifteen minutes of swearing and spelling, he finally managed to get the thing humming. He itched to have his own little Muggle encyclopedia of facts back to answer all of his questions, but Hermione's side of the couch was cold and lonely. As much as he wanted to ask her to join him one more time, his pride nixed the idea before it got wings.

If that little mud— he started to think before the memory of her sparkling eyes stopped him.

Draco didn't really consider mudblood much of an insult anymore. He'd just gotten so used to saying it in reference to Granger that it had become a habit more than anything else.

The rest of the movie passed in a brooding silence. He didn't even enjoy it when Mr. Ace himself went all batty at the end. As he trudged up to his room, his eyes lingered over Hermione's door. She'd turned her music off a while ago and he assumed from the silence that she'd gone to bed.

A strange feeling had wriggled into his chest when he saw her tears, and it was pulling at him now, insisting that he make things better between the two of them. Against his better judgment, he tapped upon her door, not really expecting a reply. His heart did a little flip when she answered with a tired, "What, Draco?"

"I just wanted to tell you I liked the movie. That Brat guy really is ace."


"And I'm sorry about the whole mudblood thing. I promise to watch what I say from now on, but you have my permission to sock me in the gut whenever I slip up. But, uh, try not to punch me so hard. I bruise like a peach and Madame Pomfrey's healing draught gives me gas."

A sound like a muffled giggle drifted under the slab of wood.

Draco smiled. It wasn't much, but it was a start.


Beyond their necessary interactions for Head Boy and Girl duties, Hermione managed to avoid Draco for the rest of the week. He'd decided to back off and give her all the space she needed. But when Monday night rolled around he couldn't stand it anymore, and he knew he had her trapped. Surely she wouldn't cancel such a beloved event as Muggle Movie Monday just to keep from having to talk to him. Would she?

Draco's heart raced as he approached their dorm. Quidditch practice was now indefinitely re-scheduled to Wednesday night, which caused a lot of put-out moaning from his teammates and more than a couple questioning glances.

He was beginning to wonder what the hell was going on himself, if truth be told. All this fuss over a mudbl—

Damn it. The word had become a bitter pill on his tongue.

It used to bring him so much pleasure to watch Granger's face screw up in anger at that one little word. But all it took was the hint of a tear in her eye to ruin his fun forever.

I shouldn't even care what she thinks. She's nothing to me. She's ... she's ...

She's nice and I like her.

And there it was, the whole reason why Draco had been moping around trying to get Hermione's attention.

He really liked Hermione Granger. For the first time in his life, he met a girl who could not only make his body turn somersaults whenever she walked in the room, but whose kindness made him want to be a better person.

Being kind was not a trait to be proud of in Draco's world. Cunning, intelligence, a razor sharp wit and steel weighted backbone—these were all characteristics you cultivated as a Slytherin. So when Draco first encountered all of those little niceties that Hermione Granger was known for, he simply attributed them to weakness and treated her the way he would any lesser.

But now that he'd gotten a taste of her softer side, he found himself craving it. Like the way she used to make him a cup of cocoa before they sat down to go over the duty schedule, or how she'd always let him shower first when he was late for class, or the way she always shared the cookies that her parents sent.

Slytherins never made each other stuff just to be nice, they could care less if you were late to class, and they never, ever shared their cookies.

It was all the little things she'd done time after time that he hadn't acknowledged and, even worse, had completely taken for granted that he was missing now.

Damn it! He didn't want to just get into Hermione's pants. Draco wanted to make her smile.

I'm ruined as a Malfoy, he thought, his heart fluttering at the sight of the Purple Prancing Hippogriff that guarded his dorm. The oddly hued beast bowed low when he muttered the password, the painting sliding open.

Stepping through the portal, Draco resolved to leave Granger and her Muggle-loving friends alone tonight. But to his surprise, the common room was empty save Hermione and her books.

"What's going on? Where are all the weepy girls?"

"Sorry to disappoint," she said, not even bothering to look up, "but movie night has been moved to the Room of Requirement. And I've already seen the selection this week. It stinks."

"So, what? No movie? No nothing?"

"Come off it, Draco," she said, closing her book. "It's not like you actually wanted to watch the movie. You're just here to get under my skin."

"No, no, no," he said, his words flowing out in a rush as she began collecting her things. "That might have been true the first week, and maybe even the second. But I—" Draco looked down and saw the look of annoyance on Hermione's face and just couldn't go on. He'd really messed things up between them. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I've been a jerk."

"That's an understatement."

"I know it is. And I know I might not deserve this, but will you please give me another chance? I promise, no more cheesy come-ons, no more saying you-know-what, and I'll leave you and your friends alone whenever you want. Even Harry and Ron. Can we just, maybe, try and be friends?"

Hermione drew in a heavy breath. "You're really exhausting, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, that's what my mom says," he joked, slipping in next to her on the couch. "Right before she tells me how handsome I am."

"Oh, I knew it!" she cried as she stood up.

"I'm kidding," Draco said as he grabbed her wrist. "I'm kidding. Come on, Granger. Give me a chance. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

Her big brown eyes held his icy gaze for an uncomfortable moment before she let out a sweet sigh of resignation.

"Okay, there is one thing. But you have to promise to do exactly what I say. And I mean it, too, Draco. Step out of line and I won't talk to you for the rest of the year."

"I'll do anything you say," he beamed, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing her soft skin against his lips. Her body completely tensed when he kissed her, the ripples of tension carrying through her bone and skin to his lips.

"Oops," Draco said as he dropped her palm. "Sorry—old habits."

"No, no, it was okay," Hermione said, but her cheeks had turned a scrumptious shade of pink. "I have to say that I don't feel especially confident that you'll be able to pull this off. But if you're willing, let's give it a go."

"I'm all yours," Draco said, his head whirling as he followed her up the stairs.


"Are Muggle clothes always this itchy?" The inseam of his jeans was doing unspeakable things to his cock. Gods, this better be worth it, he thought, and not for the first time since he agreed to do whatever Hermione wanted.

"Stop fidgeting, Draco," she whispered as her arm tugged him towards the theater. "You can transform them as soon as we're in our seats and the lights go down, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered, wondering how the hell he was going to keep quiet for the next two hours.

"I really wish I had a camera right now. You look so cute as a Muggle," she giggled as her fingers tightened around his arm.

"Burn it into your memory, Hermione, because you're never going to see it again." To be honest, the Muggle clothes weren't as bad as his complaining made them out to be. But he had to make it look like he was suffering in proper agony for her forgiveness. He was still Draco, after all.

"You never know, Draco. What if you develop a taste for Muggle movies? What will you do then?"

"Buy my own bloody theater where I can sit around naked and wank off at the screen, that's what."

Hermione didn't respond, but he felt her fingers tighten around his arm, and he wondered if she was imagining him naked and doing naughty things to himself. The idea that such impure thoughts were flowing through her chaste mind turned him on to no end.

Yes, this was going to be an excruciating two hours.

An olfactory assault to his senses occurred as soon as they walked into the front lobby. "Merlin's beard, what's that stench?" Draco pinched his nostrils.

"It's popcorn," Hermione replied, pulling his hand from his nose. "Stop being such a baby, Draco. It's just toasted corn and butter."

"Are you sure we can't rework the terms of this deal? I mean, I didn't know that I was not only going to have to keep completely silent throughout the film, but that I was also going to be suffering under such deplorable conditions. It only seems fair."

"Fair?" she hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him over into a corner. "You want to talk about fair? Fair is the fact that I'm even willing to talk to you after all the times you've insulted me and made cracks about my parents. Don't even get me started on fair, Draco. Because it's not an argument you're likely to win."

The fire that he loved so much was burning bright in her eyes. I'd take this look over tears any day, he thought, wanting desperately to kiss her.

A weight settled into his gut as he watched Hermione buy them tickets, and it only grew heavier as she led them to their seats. The theater was filled with birds of all ages, and Draco realized in horror why Harry and Ron wouldn't see this movie with Hermione.

"This movie's made for girls, isn't it?"

"Movies aren't made for girls or boys," Hermione said, but Draco detected a distinctly defensive note to her voice. "They're just made."

"Don't think I'm not going to look into this, Hermione," he said, pinching her side as she slid between a row of seats. "If I find out you're lying to me, you are so going to owe me."

"Draco Malfoy," she gasped, folding her hands over her heart as she sat down. "Are you accusing me, Hermione Granger, of being less than truthful?" Two brown dollops of sugary sincerity stared up at him.

"You better believe it," he said, tapping his finger to the tip of her nose as he took his seat.

"Okay, get everything out now, Draco, because you have less than a minute before that mouth of yours goes quiet. Oh, before I forget—wand please."

Her tiny little hand was held out flat.

"I can't believe you think I'd cheat and place a silencing charm over myself," he grumbled as he dug into his pocket.

"Please, if you weren't talking right now I'd think you'd already done it. You're spoilt with magic, Draco. It's time you learned a little self control."

"You're lucky you're so cute," he said, the words flying out of his mouth before he could stop them. He cursed himself for the admission.

Just then, the movie started, and Draco's enforced silence began. Hermione, however, was under no such edict.

"Draco Malfoy thinks I'm cu-ute," she whispered in his ear. The feel of her breath against his ear sent a thrill along his skin and down to his cock, which ached as it came in touch with the rough, Muggle denim.

But he was so happy that he barely even noticed.


Two hours later, Draco was full to burst, desperate to let loose the flow of words that had collected in his throat.

"Not a word until we're outside," Hermione hissed in his ear as the movie went to credits. He nearly threw Hermione over his shoulder and ran her out of the theater, but he somehow managed to walk silently behind the horde of Muggles and through the popcorn stench of the lobby.

As soon as they were outside and Hermione slipped his wand in his hands, he let out heaving, gasping breath followed by a rush of words almost too fast to recognize.

"Oh my Gods. That was the worst thing I've ever seen. If I wasn't so desperate for you to forgive me, I would have walked out after three minutes, hunted down whoever was responsible for making it and turned him into a toad. I seriously have to question your judgment, Hermione, for actually wanting to see such a load a crap. Do Muggles really pay to have their brain cells dissolved in such rubbish? I'd demand my mon—"

And just then, in the middle of Draco's speech and in the middle of the Muggle street, Hermione did the most amazing thing. She caught one of Draco's wildly gesticulating arms, swung him around towards her, and kissed him. Draco had never been so thoroughly shut up in his entire life.

As soon as the initial shock wore off, he scooped Hermione up tight against his chest, cradling her lovely little face in one of his hands as he slipped his tongue between her lips. Tightening her grip around his neck, Hermione sighed softly into his mouth.

Hands down, it was the best sound Draco had ever heard.

"What brought this on?" he murmured against her lips, hating the thought of ending their kiss but dying to know what he'd finally done right.

"You finally stopped being so dense," Hermione replied, her lips still playing over his. "You managed to control that mouth of yours for two whole hours without me having to shock you into it with my arse on your leg or by wearing a low cut top.

Draco couldn't help chuckling at the way he'd been so thoroughly played. "You know, Hermione, there are much more enjoyable ways to keep me quiet."

"Oh, I bet there are. And I'm sure you're dying to tell me about every last one of them."

The End