A/N: I'm posting this, in part to make up for NOT posting much involving Hogwarts: A Mystery (forgive me, my ADSL is still waiting to be installed, and my plumbing isn't exactly helping, either), but also in part to work on a promise I made to myself, and another reader. This story, retaining it's original title, was dreamed up way back when by the forever lovely RoboticUrges (who is me). However, as I was unable to complete this tale (because I wrote like a douche back then, and haven't been able to look at it since), I've decided to finish it right here and now. I have greatly remodeled the first three chapters, and plan on finishing with the same 5-chapter limit in mind. I have also left the original story completely intact on my old account (where I wrote like a douche). I believe I can reach completion of this commitment now (even if parts are still written like the douche I have been).

So please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride that is Not Just Another Stupid Love Spell... And hopefully I no longer write like a douche, as I am no longer thirteen.

Chapter One: Love Potion no. 9

This had better work, thought the boy to himself, or I'm getting a refund.

He was sitting a few tables away from her, but her body never left his sight. He had already decided. He was getting her one way or another. And after careful deliberation, 'another' seemed the best possible path to take.

It had been mere weeks ago that he had come up with this scheme, and only a day since the order had arrived. Not that this was the difficult part. No, the hardest part was to slip it into her food without arousing suspicion. Thank the gods those stupid house elves believed everything you said as if it were the word of Merlin. Otherwise, he'd still be stuck hiding a completely useless love potion in his book bag until an opportunity presented itself - and the likelihood of that ever happening was indeed low. How often had anyone actually managed to drug Granger? So, feeling quite smug about his plan's success thus far, Draco Malfoy sat full of glee and self-worth, watching for the moment Hermione Granger took her first sip of pumpkin juice and consequently fell head-over-heels in love with him.

It wasn't that he liked the girl; absolutely not. He couldn't even stand being in the same room with that snotty-nosed muggle brat, but obtaining her affections held a certain amount of appeal for him. Not only would he have another way to get on that damned Potter's nerves - and Potter's nerves were always a very good thing to get on, in Draco's fine opinion – but he would be able to humiliate the little bitch and her would-be beau as well while he was at it. Wasn't life just positively wonderful? For the first time in a long time, Draco smirked. Right now, he had the upper hand…

Distracted as he was, Draco didn't at first notice his target spring from the Gryffindor table and bounce off towards the nearest set of stairs. Actually, he had no idea she bounced, and was quite shocked by the knowledge when he did finally come to his senses. He had thought he would be dealing with a human being, not a bloody ferret. Then again, he had seen the way those Weasley potions affected people; vomiting, bloating, sprouting pustules and turning green – all were common side effects (or even the main effect) of the devious twins' concoctions. Perhaps, Draco thought as he swaggered off to Potions, that childish antics, such as skipping, were a very tame and preferable option to any of that balderdash.

Draco was fairly sure the potion was working properly when Hermione had – very discretely – asked to have a word with him after potions. She was all pink in the face and trembling, looking for all the world exactly as a mudblood should in his presence; and, he admitted to himself, it stirred up an odd sensation which made his heart beat that bit faster in his chest. Being a Malfoy, he assumed it was the legendary 'power rush' that he had heard so much about, and put it away for later. His main interest now was in humiliating Potter, not gloating. Still, Draco found himself conflicted at learning to be proud over something that made him feel so weak. He wished to hold no interest other than to finish what he had started, and get that Potter trembling on his knees before him, yet he felt…conflicted…

No.

No, that was absurd. All he desired was to see that green-eyed freak helpless as he watched his enemy caress dear little Hermione's cheek; as he snatched her away from him and that Weasley; as he led her into a realm of turmoil and sweat that, at the mere thought of it, would make her shake in trepidation…

Ok, Draco had to admit the idea of undressing the resident bookworm made him more than a little bit aroused, but he shook it off, thinking it was only natural – his enemy's best friend sure would be a fun toy to play with, and all toys had their breaking limits. He smirked.

It was time to play.

Slouching outside the Potions' class 'cell', the boy waited for his prey to catch up, his cool gaze scathing the already frigid atmosphere that surrounded him. She took longer than he had hoped, muddling around with the potions ingredients, and even shattering a jar of bezoars on the damp and unrelenting floor of the dungeon before waddling out into his presence. Of course, the girl did have her reasons. It wouldn't exactly be a dream-come-true for Draco if everyone saw them conversing amicably, either. At least not yet. Draco snickered. She was probably embarrassed to talk to him with her little friends around. The thought even brought a sneer to the youth's face. Granger had a sense of shame? How cute. That wouldn't last much longer.

Finally, his quarry was upon him. She looked down when she spoke, and her eyes darted around nervously from underneath her lowered lashes, but Draco listened to her quiet words intently.

"U-um, Malf- Dra-co," the words came out muddled, butchered by shyness, "W-would you, well, this is awfully sudden and – but I think I should say it and…um…um, what was I saying…?"

The blond forced away the urge to roll his eyes at her babbling. Oh, the love potion had worked, all right. It had worked well. Still, it wouldn't be helpful if there was no confession of mutual feelings, and Granger was still prattling under her breath in that unseemly, wordy way of hers…

"So, yes…will you…would you- I kind of…" the girl stopped and blinked, "Did I already mention the part about how your hair is pretty- handsome, ugh, beautiful?"

Draco resisted another urge – this time it was the one to smack himself in the face.

Relax, Draco, he thought, No need to give yourself a crooked nose over such a trivial matter…

But the witch was still rambling. About tea cosies.

"Granger!" he hiss-shouted, "Spit it out!"

This appeared to have the desired effect, as the next words out of the girl's mouth was a startled, "I like you!"

Draco grinned. He still had it. Whatever being nasty to get your way was, exactly.

To his utter non-delight, the Granger creature continued speaking.

"I-I mean, I like you," she said, eyes and voice betraying her wonderment, "b-but not just as a friend. Although I believe such relationships should retain a certain amount of friendship to continue to function properly – and I'm sure you feel the same wa-"

Draco smiled as Hermione's voice rose in pitch and sped up before silencing her with a forefinger to her delicate lips.

"I believe I know exactly what you are trying to say. I'd be honoured to go on a date with you. Perhaps to Hogsmeade this coming weekend?" He replied with his best 'come-hither' eyes – something which Draco secretly prided himself on, and which Blaise secretly laughed about behind his back.

His heart skipped a nervous beat as he awaited her reply, although thanks to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes love potion he had no need to fear. For the first time in his life Draco Malfoy was thankful to a Weasley. He made a mental note not to kill the troublesome brothers on sight, should he ever face them in battle. A good two seconds headstart should be enough time for them to come to terms with impending death. Perhaps three, if he was feeling particularly generous.

"Uh, sure," Hermione gushed, "That'd be g-gr-eat. Bye bye!" And with a smile that Draco decided could probably light the Great Hall better than any candles, she skipped off to lunch, and out of his sight.

As her footsteps receded up into the light, Draco felt his muscles relaxing, and sighed. His plan was definitely succeeding, but what strange urge was possibly possessing him to feel this way? It was almost as if… Surely he couldn't feel bad about toying with a mudblood's feelings?

No, that was another impossibility in his day of the improbable. It was most likely just a stomach ache caused by not eating breakfast again – Granger's fault, of course. He had spent all morning watching her, like a hungry barn owl at night, to ensure the potion came into contact with her mouth specifically. The memory caused the young Malfoy to rub his brow, and frown.

Bloody mudbloods…

It was a good thing, he decided, that his family supported the Dark Lord. Otherwise, he'd have been tempted to defect from this experience alone. Let it not be said that there ever was a Malfoy who could operate on an empty stomach.

A/N: Draco cannot operate on an empty stomach, I cannot operate on no sleep, and this story isn't edited! I believe dear Gir would sum this particular moment up in "Whhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeee!"

Alas, goodnight, and goodwill to all (and here's to me not being an author-tastic doucheball...I hope).