Disclaimer: Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not actually JK Rowling. I know. It's a shocker. So all I own is the plot. Yep.

A/N: This is my first story, so criticism is very welcome, but please be specific so I can (hopefully) improve.

The Poker Game

DRACO'S POV

Thank Merlin! Sweet, sweet victory at last. I smirk at the cards I've been dealt. After three consecutive losses, which have landed me fifty galleons down, Lady Luck has finally seen fit to grace me with her presence. Take that Granger! Huh. She probably thought she was so smart, beating me at this stupid muggle 'card game'…who entertains themselves with little pieces of paper anyway? I mean, come on, it is sort of pathetic. I can't believe that Dumbledore made me take this class anyway. Advanced Muggle Studies? When will I ever need this stuff?

At this point my internal diatribe is interrupted as I realize that Hermione is looking at me expectantly. Damn. What am I supposed to be doing? Oh. Right.

"I don't need any cards." My smirk grows to frightening proportions as I contemplate my imminent victory. To my surprise Hermione remains unaffected by my Evil Smirk, simply raising one eyebrow condescendingly and then turning to the deck to deal herself two cards.

"The dealer will take two cards." As if I can't count the number of cards she picked up. How stupid does she think I am? Moreover, how can she not be intimidated by my Evil Smirk? Evil Smirks are a highly underappreciated art form. I had to work on my Evil Smirk for years, finding the perfect ratio of evil menace and sly sexiness such that I could appropriately awe and alarm any victim. So why isn't she awed and alarmed damnit? If she had any common decency she would be awed and…damnit, why is she looking at me again?

HERMIONE'S POV

Poor guy. He clearly is not meant for poker. At the very least the term 'poker face' means nothing to him---I haven't seen anyone grin like that since Fred and George wallpapered Snape's classroom in pretty pink bows and dancing unicorns. Of course they stopped grinning and started running pretty quickly, while my unfortunate poker partner is still unwise enough to be sitting across from me grinning—oh excuse me, I suppose he'd prefer smirking—maniacally. He seems to be under the impression that if he just smirks a little harder I'll begin to cower. Poor, delusional boy.

While his mouth is twitching under the exertion of maintaining rather impressive smirk for several minutes running, his eyes seem oddly vacant. What was it with him and spacing out? Pointed stares seem to accomplish nothing with him. Although frankly I don't mind as he certainly isn't hard on the eyes. I'm woman enough to admit it—he's a First Class Bad Ass Hottie. Of course, the pivotal word that most people skim over in that evaluation is 'Ass'. While he has been less of a nuisance since Voldemort fell—and I should say on his behalf that Draco did remain faithful to the Order during the War—he still has some serious attitude issues. Which is why I feel no compunction at cleaning him out during these poker games. He can afford it anyway. And I really, really want that glowing scarlet dress I saw in Diagon Alley. I mean, it glows! I haven't told anyone about it as I'd have never hear the end of it if everyone found out that The Hermione Granger covets something non-book related. Good God the Horror (note the sarcasm).

Why isn't Draco betting yet? Perhaps it is time to fix him with the McGonagal Stare. It never fails. God Bless that lady. Maha! The McGonagall Stare strikes again! Beware all who oppose Hermione Granger! Woot.

DRACO'S POV

Right. Betting. That's what I'm supposed to be doing.

"I'll bet ten galleons." A substantial starting bet. She continues staring at me evenly. Does nothing unnerve her?

"I'll meet your ten and raise you five." Shit! Does that mean she has a good hand? Surely not better than mine. Surely. But why is she raising this much? I only have another six galleons on me as I spent the rest of my monthly allowance on a magical alarm clock which dispatches the illusion of a frog doing stunts on a broom while singing "It Sucks To Be Me". I don't regret the purchase (how could I?), but I can tell that having no money whilst in the midst of a poker game is bad—very, very bad.

"I'll meet your five and raise you one." Please back down, fold or whatever. Please?! Clearly she is not listening to my silent pleading. Damn.

"I'll meet your one," She pauses and I try not to be intimidated by her raised eyebrow which seemed to say 'Oh, is that all you can do? What a pity…' Damnit. I'm the Evil Slytherin Prince here, not her. I should be intimidating her, not the other way around. I will not be intimidated! I will not be intimidated, I will not be intimidated….Why isn't this working? Is she still talking? Damn.

"And I'll raise you another five…oh wait, do you have any money left? If you don't we could just leave off. I suppose three and a half games is really enough for Professor Vir." The look in her eyes says something entirely different however. She's challenging me. Seeing as I have no money I can't fathom what she hopes to get out of it, except perhaps to humiliate me for all the times I made her life hell, but ultimately her motives make no difference to me. After all when have I, Draco Malfoy, ever backed down from a challenge? Well, except that once, but that doesn't count because no one in their right mind takes on a pissed Elmo.

HERMIONE'S POV

Damn but I'm good. People don't see me as being cunning because I'm always talking so it's generally assumed that there's nothing in my mind besides the arbitrary streams of useless information that I constantly spout. How easily misled people are.

Hehe. Draco wouldn't even see it coming. My plan was so beautifully cunning and cruel and...damn but I'm good. To his credit he isn't completely unsuspecting as he looks down at me through icy eyes, but I can tell he's going to continue.

"So how do I stay in without any money?" Yes! Score for Hermione! Now to reel him in…

"How about we make it interesting. I put all the money that I've made in these games back in the pot. But if I win you owe me a favor that I will make known to you after I win. Sound good?" I am barely able to keep the anticipation off of my face.

"Alright, that sounds fair. So long as the favor wouldn't land me with Madame Pomfrey." Stupid sod! Will these Slytherins never learn? They cannot compete with me! I'm just too damn clever for them. Woot!

"Nope, no danger of that." I respond, voice cool and controlled. I hope. "So, shall we lay down the cards?" A superior smile (which I'm pretty sure I've patented) slides onto his face as he lays down his cards.

"Read 'em and weep. All reds."

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