The Worst Date Ever

The Meal

"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.