Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. If I did, I wouldn't have to write FanFiction because I would've made millions selling my own books. So, seeing as I do not have millions at my disposal, please do not sue me.

AN: Okay, so here's little something that has been in my head for awhile just begging to be written down. It's a oneshot and only a oneshot. I will not be adding any chapters. It was just a bit of silliness that struck in the early morning hours. Well, read and enjoy.

Dinner With Malfoy

I never thought that I would see the day when I preferred the company of Draco Malfoy over that of…anybody. He was a foul, loathsome man who had a fascination with secretaries—his secretaries. He seemed to change them like flavors of the week. But they always fit the same basic profile: tall, leggy, and more curvaceous than I had ever thought possible. And they all had the IQ of a small rodent. In other words, they were hired because they were a right tasty piece of eye-candy and not because of how many two-syllable words they could string together into a sentence.

And yet Malfoy was a much better option than, say, that of my ex-boyfriend, who was the sort of man that you have to get to really know before you realize that he was complete and utter bastard.

Nick McCleathy was my type of man. He was tall, dark, and handsome with a solid muscular build that would make you feel safe in a dark alley. He was charming, witty, and sophisticated. Definitely my kind of man. Unfortunately, that was all a lie, an act. When you really got to know him, Nick was an absolute wanker.

Underneath that beautiful façade he was just your average sex-craving man. Of course, I could be giving a biased opinion. I mean, who am I to judge? I only walked in on him shagging some blonde bimbo that could have been one of Malfoy's secretaries. I suppose that doesn't really give me the right to make such an observation about his character, right? So Nick ripped my heart out and threw it in the path of a thousand stampeding elephants. So he shattered it into a billion and one microscopic pieces and put it back again at painfully odd angles. None of that really gives me the right to be so judgmental toward his integrity.

And what was it he said when he realized that I was standing in his doorway? He put it so eloquently I'd hate to leave it out. Oh, yes, now I remember. He said, "Hermione, sweetheart, I'm just not feeling that…spark anymore."

Spark? Spark? I'll give you "spark". I was so angry that seven years of Hogwarts training in controlling my magic went swirling down the drain as his dark, curly hair promptly erupted in bright orange flames. His blonde bimbo screamed; he ran around cursing and attempting to stick his head under the faucet in the kitchen; I turned and walked away, slamming the door closed behind me and causing it to splinter.

But, enough of that. You're probably wondering just how all this fits into being in the company of Malfoy. I suppose it has something to do with Nick's blonde bimbo being one Miss Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy's ex-fiancée. Okay, so maybe Malfoy wasn't shagging his secretaries and preparing to marry Parkinson and the same time. As much as it pains me to say it, Malfoy has one good trait and that is Malfoy honor. If the damned man makes a promise, he keeps said promise. So, when his parents arranged the marriage at his birth, he had made damned sure to follow through with it…until she decided that shagging Nick was worth risking her soon to be position as Mrs. Draco Malfoy. As much as he was a man of his word, Malfoy was also a man who did not like to be made a fool of and Parkinson had made a fool of him, resulting in his dropping her like so much rubbish and wanting revenge.

So, I wanted revenge; Malfoy wanted revenge; we both wanted revenge on the same two people. Funny old world, isn't it?

"I suppose, seeing as we're to be entering into this…partnership, we're expected to be somewhat civil."

I looked down at the arrogant blond man seated at the table before me. He had that blasted trademark smirk firmly in place as he looked back at me, his icy eyes dancing maliciously in the candle-lit restaurant. His skin was still to pale and his fingers were still too spindly. He really hadn't changed much since school I'd hated him in school.

"I suppose that would be best," I managed to answer in a somewhat calm manner. I hated that I was here. I hated that I'd had to sink so low as to seek out him for help.

"I can't believe I've sunk so low as to be dining with a…with you," he muttered, his straight nose wrinkling in disgust. "You do have manners, correct?"

I glared at him. How dare he? How dare he sit there and say things about being civil then turn around and say…say that? I hadn't even sat down yet.

"Why you little arrogant—"

"Ah, ah, ah." He cut me off. "Remember civility."

I stopped in mid-rant, inhaled sharply, and laid a glare on him that should've sent him cowering under the table. Instead, he continued to smirk and waved the waiter over.

"Do sit down," he said. "You're giving me a crick in my neck."

The waiter was standing at the table now, his eyes shifting nervously between Malfoy and me.

I sat down but only because the poor man looked about to burst into tears. He visibly relaxed as I picked up the menu. This was where he was comfortable, telling people the specials, what was particularly delicious.

"The usual, Miguel, and bring out your best wine."

"Yes, Mister Malfoy. And for the lady?"

I stared at the menu, checking prices against what I knew to be in my pocket. "Just a salad for me, I think. And French dressing."

"Right away," answered the waiter, taking our menus with him as he sped off.

"Just a salad?"

I looked up from my inspection of my water glass to see one of Malfoy's pale eyebrows arched questioningly. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

I sighed and returned to inspecting the refractions in my water glass. "Like you care enough to ask. Because asking implies that you're worried and we all know that Draco Malfoy worries for none but himself."

"A few minutes in my company and you already think you know me, hmm?" He leaned back in his chair. "I am insulted."

"I was in your company for seven long years at Hogwarts. My place of employment had dealings with your business; I sat in on many of those meetings. And now I've experienced a few minutes of one-on-one and I have to admit: You haven't changed at all since school. You're still an annoyingly arrogant prat who thinks much too highly of himself."

Miguel arrived with the wine, which distracted Malfoy long enough for me to contemplate taking on my problem by myself. If only Harry and Ron hadn't gone off and gotten married. Then I could use one of them to make my ex jealous. That's what I wanted to do after all. Was to make him see just what he had thrown away, what he could've had. And in order to do that, I had to at least pretend to be in a relationship with someone that would…that would…

I looked across the table at Malfoy sampling the wine. He was too all perfect to play the part. After all, Pansy, his fiancé, was who I walked in on doing the horizontal hustle with my ex. It would be killing two birds with one stone. We could piss both of them off.

"Malfoy," I whispered, still now willing to believe that I had come up with such a deviant plan. He pretended not to hear me so I called again, a bit louder. "Malfoy, I have a brilliant plan."

"If it ends in a shag, you're fresh out of luck."

"You disgusting, filthy animal! I'd never shag you!" I whispered harshly. "And is that all you think about? Shagging?"

He leaned forward. "Granger, I'm a man. Not only that but I'm the most sought after wizard in England, in all of the eastern hemisphere and probably the world. Women throw themselves at me practically undressed. Of course that's what I'm thinking about most of the time."

"Well, that's not what I was thinking of."

"That's because you're a prude, Granger."

"I most certainly am not a prude!"

"You most certainly are. Why do you think that boyfriend of yours went to get it somewhere else, hmm?"

"Because he's a sex obsessed bloke with no morals."

"Ah, I can sympathize."

"You would."

"I've a question for you, Granger."

"I retain the right not to answer."

"Oh but you'll want to answer this one."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I went to school with you for seven years, was present at meetings during which we were in the same room and I've had one-on-one time with you for…about fifteen minutes now. Apparently that's all it takes to really know someone. Or so I've heard."

I glared at him for shoving my words back into my face.

"Now, as to my question." He smiled evilly. "What color are your panties?"

Five minutes later I was sitting in front of the telly in my flat with a carton of double chocolate brownie batter ice cream thoroughly depressed by the way the evening had gone. I should've known that Malfoy would be a complete prat and wouldn't have been of any help whatsoever. I don't know what made me accept the invitation in the first place.

Oh, yes, now I remember. He was my last hope of retaliation.

I shoved an unladylike amount of ice cream into my mouth. If that doesn't show you just how desperate I was to get back at that my bastard of an ex-boyfriend, I don't know how else to prove it to you.

The man on the soap I was watching kissed the forehead of his girlfriend.

"Kelly, I love you."

"Even if I want to wait to have sex until after marriage because I'm a traditionalist?"

"Of course. I'll always love you."

"Oh Jason."

"Don't you believe him, Kelly," I shouted through a mouthful of ice cream. "He's lying. He's a man and all he wants is sex, sex, sex."

"Sounds a little harsh there, Granger. Maybe he means it."

I spun around, looking back where Malfoy was standing in my doorway.

"You said so yourself, Malfoy. All men want is sex, sex, sex."

"Well, can you blame us?"

"Yes."

He waited for a further explanation before sitting on the couch that I was leaning up against and began to watch the soap with me, calling a spoon out of the kitchen with a flick of his wand and helping me down my carton of double chocolate brownie batter ice cream which I was beginning to suspect had been laced this some sort of alcohol. (Most probably by my own doing without realizing that I'd done it.)

Three scenes later Jason was in bed with a woman who was not Kelly.

"I told you, Malfoy. He didn't mean it. I may be a prude but I know enough to know that they aren't sleeping. That is sex."

"Uhhuhh. That's sex alright. Yes, sir. You were right on the money with that one, Granger."

"Of course I was. I'm always right. When have I ever been wrong?"

"When you said you'd never shag me," he whispered seductively in my ear.

Shivers originated from where his knee touched my shoulder and where his hand was gliding slowly over the skin of my upper arm, raced through my body, raised bumps on my arms.

"I bet you've dreamed of it," he breathed against my cheek, dropping a kiss to my jaw.

"Never," I muttered feebly. It was a lost cause, resisting him. Even as my mind screamed at me to jump up and hex his arse into the next millennia, my body was reacting in quite the opposite fashion.

"Meow."

I sat up, breaking physical contact with Malfoy. "Did you just…'meow' at me?"

He only stared at me with stormy eyes. "Meow."

"Oh, sweet Merlin. You sound just like my cat, Crookshanks. How do you do that?"

"Meow."

"Okay, now it's getting annoying."

He leaned forward and licked my nose--

--and I woke up to find Crookshanks sitting on my chest, licking my nose in his annoyingly early wake-up call.

I shoved him off my chest and fell back onto my bed. I'd come so close to actually kissing Malfoy, so close to doing more than kissing. What if it was some sort of omen? What if I was supposed to read something into it?

I pulled my pillow over my head and screamed into it. I absolutely hate dreams.