The Dating Game

The Dating Game

Chapter 1: Bitching

Draco knew just the right guy. Okay, so maybe his hair was almost black rather than brown. Men were so not perceptive about these things, so he was sure Harry'd get away with that. And his mate...or rather his acquaintance, even adversary, was indeed a former quidditch player. It didn't matter that he wasn't anymore, as long as he had once been a quidditch player, thought Draco. He was a rich wizard and a philanthropist; therefore he didn't have to work. He loved women, but had plenty of respect for them. No attempts at kissing or more before thorough wining and dining and good conversation. His dates usually tended to be airheads, but then again, so did Draco's. Draco was sure he could ask his...acquaintance...for this one favour. "Kind of like asking someone to take your little sister out, showing her a nice time, but not too nice!" he figured. No time like the present. He got himself a parchment and a quill and started writing.

"Whitmore,

I need a favour. A girl I know, a very good friend of mine actually, has had a rather long dry spell and she needs to unwind. Our mutual friend was able to talk her into letting him arrange a blind date for her, and you were the first person that entered my mind. All she knows about you is that you have dark hair and you play quidditch. She's not into sports so she probably won't even figure out that you're no longer active in the game. She doesn't know that I know you though, so keep your yap shut! Last thing she needs to think is that this is a pity date!

I know she's not your type; she's really smart and opinionated, only average looking and she's definitely not a blonde. All I'm asking for you to do is take her to dinner and drinks, and treat her nice and then drop her home.

Friday night at 8?

Draco Malfoy"

= = =

Blissfully unaware of how complicated a matter her future blind date had already become, Hermione Granger walked back to work with a bounce on her step. It was a crisp autumn day, and her lunch break was just ending. Hermione had spent it in a café called "Three Cats" that was situated near the Ministry. She tried to go there at least once a month. Most days she was too busy with her work to afford a proper break. She barely ever saw the sun. She lived on coffee, bubble gum and granola bars. Occasionally she had some chocolate for her guilty pleasure. Man, she was boring! Most 23-year old witches that had a guilty pleasure had a wizard. Or better yet, a witch! She had chocolate.

But Hermione liked her life. Maybe there was something missing, but it wasn't anything she could do something about. That was the main reason she had given up on Harry's insistence as easily as she had. The quidditch guy was probably not her type, but who the bloody hell had been? She was a closet romantic...she wanted undying love, passion, uncontrollable lust...and if she couldn't get that, she'd rather have...yes, chocolate. That's why her stomach wasn't as lean as was fashionable, and her curves were more voluptuous than could be seen from the lose clothing she wore.

She grimaced as she remembered how Ron had always complained her about how dull she looked; how she worked too much, how she didn't have enough time for him...the final straw had been The Incident.

It hadn't been the first time he had chosen to wash their dirty laundry on public. He knew she was helpless against that, because as temperamental as she was, she didn't want to argue about their private affairs with people around. She'd rather not say anything at all. But then, then he had called her frigid. It had seemed like everyone turned to look at her, feeling sorry for the frigid girl being embarrassed by her boyfriend, or gloating at the lovebirds having troubles, or worst of all, feeling sympathy towards the poor guy who had a frigid, plain girlfriend.

She would never forgive Ron for that. They had met each other after, but only when Harry was there too, and only when Harry instigated it. Ron still treated her smugly. And why not, she was his leftovers after all. Arrogant smarmy git!

= = =

A couple of hours after sending him on his way, Draco's black owl returned with a short and to the point reply:


"Alright. Friday, at eight. Send me her address so I know where to pick her up.

You sure made her sound appealing, Malfoy. "


Smartass, Draco snorted. He scribbled Hermione's address down, attached the note to his owl's leg and sent him back. Then he threw some floopowder on the fireplace and went to see Harry. He wasn't home, but Draco left a message to Ginny that the date was settled and that the quidditch player would pick Hermione up from her place at eight on Friday night. Former Weaselette raised an eyebrow, but agreed to deliver the message.

After some thought, he picked up his new cell phone and called Granger. He wanted to see her before the date.

= = =

"Friday at eight? I have important work to finish and it might take..."

Harry tried his best to stare her down, and she gave up.

"Alright, fine. I'll leave early. If I get home at six I'll have enough time to get ready and regret saying yes to this in the first place..."

"Six is early? And on a Friday night, Hermione? You need help! You need a VACATION!" Harry gasped.

"Don't be daft, Harry. I always work that late, and later. And I don't need a vacation, I have everything under control. So, what is this guy's name?"

Harry felt his heart fall to his stomach where it started to beat erratically. His name. His bloody name. Draco hadn't told Ginny that. Crap!

"Uh I have to go, Hermione. I just remembered that Ginny asked me to pick something up. At Madam Malkins. Seeya!"

Before Hermione had the chance to question him, or even say 'bye', he had apparated away with a loud pop.

"Nice talking to you, too, Harry," she muttered.

= = =

Hermione apparated behind the front door to Draco's flat and lifted the dragon-shaped knocker to let him know of her arrival. It was part of the remains from Malfoy Manor that could have been his home had he not sold it after both of his parents had died. It seemed adorably out of place nailed on the regular door of a somewhat normal flat instead of a great manor.

The door opened and Draco greeted her with a smirk.

"Wow, it's only seven. How ever were you able to leave work so early?"

She was, in fact, coming straight from work. And she had, in fact, had to leave some of her work for tomorrow to visit him.

"Stuff it," she told him with a slight smile.

"Manners, manners. Speaking of which, do come in."

"Thank you."

Hermione followed him into his flat that she had visited many times before, for "bitching" purposes. She was probably the only female visitor ever to grace this apartment without spending all of the time in the bedroom, she grimaced. Sour grapes, she admitted internally. No reason to envy his glamorous sexlife. She could have one too, if that was all she wanted. Maybe not as glamorous though.

"So what's up with you, Granger? I saw Harry yesterday and he told me you have a date!"

Hermione sighed. This was just what she had wanted, to have Harry and Draco talking together and then interrogating her about her lovelife or lack there of.

"Yea, Friday night. Some quidditch guy. Likes books."

"Yummy."

"Isn't it. We'll see how it goes."

"You don't sound excited." Draco stated.

"It's not that I'm unexcited, I'm just not holding my breath. "

"Are you still thinking about Weasel? You should let that go. He's a stupid arse. Always was, always will be. Anyone will be improvement compared to him!"

"Is that all I can and should expect from a bloke?? Improvement compared to Ron?" Hermione started getting angry.

"No, of course not. That's not what I meant at all. You deserve a great guy, another intellectual and as hard working- -"

"Another nerdy workaholic like me??"

"Why are you trying to pick a fight with me, Granger? I didn't call you a nerd or a workaholic, although I do think you work too much. All I'm saying is that Weaselbee is old news now and you need someone new in your life- -"

"Why do all of you think you know what I need and what's best for me!? Harry thinks I need a date! You think I need some nerdy boyfriend. Ron thinks I need a shag, but he doesn't even believe I'd get off on it. Men!"

In less than two seconds she had ran away from his flat and apparated away as soon as she was able. She would not show her tears to Draco.

Her cell phone started ringing. Draco. Bastard!

She turned it off.