A/N: This was inspired by the film 'The Wedding Date' - good film, go watch it. Chapters will probably be between 1000 and 2000 words. Irregular updates to be expected but I thought I'd do something mushy for Valentine's. Happy reading and please review. Especially the title, unsure of it.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Hooking Love

Chapter 1

"Profitable weekend, Draco, darling?" Pansy cooed, settling herself pertly behind her desk and slipping what was probably her fifth cup of tea back into its pristine, porcelain saucer. Draco personally thought the sickly rose pattern was slight overkill but then who was he to judge. She was the office snob after all, not him.

"Everything's wrapped up, money's already banked, glorified dinner and satisfying fuck to tie the pretty pink bow last night." She pouted her lips at him and puckered, 'oooh'ing as if she were actually impressed.

"As if that's any surprise," she snickered quietly behind her hand, dagger-length fingernails glittering a sophisticated nude-gold this frigid, winter morning. "I know you get caught in the moment but do try and remember you're a bit of a sure thing." She considered for a second, flipping her hair out of her eyes with more flourish than was strictly necessary. "Anyway, I've got the next business proposition lined up and ready. I assume that is what you're doing dawdling in my office at this time day; cutting into my lunch hour as you are."

Draco relaxed back against the luxurious, cream material her sofa. Technically it was for the comfort of clients not employees but friends seemed to claim a few business perks in this office, free caffeine being another welcome addition.

Draco thought he preferred Pansy when she turned her considerably determined intelligence towards business affairs. She was a terrific, if terrifying, friend but unpredictable and Draco liked to keep some secrets, thank you very much, even if it was just so he could strategically and scandalously shock her publically at a later date.

"Working me to death, I see. Have I not earned at least a day off?" He glanced up at her through the fine down of his fringe hoping for sympathy.

"Oh no, dear. You don't get holidays. You are paid to socialise and party and play the manipulation game, all things you were born and raised to do. That is your holiday. Now, your next client."

She swirled away from him towards the meticulously organised cabinet behind her. The bright glow of the sun caught her pitch hair for a second before her face was shadowed. The cabinet was dark mahogany like all the other furniture in the room.

The file she produced was thin, for the time being although Draco knew it would grow astonishingly quickly, and a crisp white. She slapped it down beside her tea with dramatic relish and wheeled herself elegantly back behind it. Draco, despite his blood relations and ridiculous amounts of high class training, had long since given up trying to succeed in that endeavour gracefully. He could keep a book perched atop his head steady an entire day or eat spaghetti without even a slurp or single spot on a fresh shirt but he could not navigate a simple journey on a wheeled chair without looking like a turtle struggling for survival.

"I won't pretend he's upper-class, not by a long shot, but he's in with one of the old families. The Weasley's unfortunately but we can't all be perfect I suppose. Sounds more like the desperate, soppy puppy than you usually like but it'll be easy money and if he turns out to be a complete horse's arse in the face department you can feel safe with the knowledge that he's assured no intimacy. " She clapped her hands together in front of her smile as if she'd somehow snuck passed an army and stolen a goldmine; which was partially true he supposed.

"So this bloke is paying an extortionate amount of money just for my company?" He raised an eyebrow at her, not quite believing. It was definitely too easy. "So what's the catch? Is he old and arthritic? A librarian - they're always the dullest. Is he fat? Pansy you know I can't abide the athletically challenged." He chose to completely ignore the whine that snuck into his voice.

"No, no, dear. Well, I don't know about physical appearance but he didn't sound fat..." She glanced off to the side, thinking, before shrugging delicately and continuing. "Anyway, friend of the Weasley's and as you may have heard, since the papers seem to print anything these days although I suppose it was a titillating novelty to begin with, the youngest little prince is to be married at the end of this week." Her voice screeched in sarcastic excitement.

"Now, Mr Potter, our dear, dear client, is the best friend of both sides. Known since childhood they were apparently inseparable until..." She pouted in remorse, it confused him that he couldn't tell if it was slightly sincere or completely false.

"Until he became the third wheel." He smirked back, kicking one leg up onto his knee and sliding down further.

"Exactly. Now the way he explained it sounded pathetic but the general idea is he doesn't want them to think he's lonely - which he absolutely obviously is by the way - and start meddling in his love life - which might I add is completely idiotic because, as a sensible woman, I can quite clearly see an astounding amount of meddling is needed in this case and they must obviously be crap friends."

"So I'm to be the perfect date and belay their suspicions for a week turning Cinderella into the fairy-tale." He paused, pretending to consider although they both knew it was as easy as the job could possibly get. "It's obviously going to blow up spectacularly in his face but I have no qualms with helping him ruin his life. When do I meet him?"

"I love it when you're so rugged and direct, darling," she simpered, sliding her cool tea disgustedly further toward the edge of her desk. "Of course I knew you'd say 'yes' so I took the liberty of arranging a meeting at Fortescue's this afternoon. Three O'clock sharp. Don't be late. Harry Potter. Says he wears glasses and has a scar on his forehead." She twisted her pen nonchalantly between her fingers.

"Glasses!? No, he really is a nerd, Pansy," the whine was too obvious this time for him to ignore it so he added extra emphasis instead, hitching up the volume and pitch for effect.

"Don't whine. You're being paid. Now get out. And tell my assistant I want a new cup of tea. And I suggest she only add half a sugar properly this time or she won't be scurrying about on the other side of that door tomorrow."

The back of her shiny head was enough of a dismissal but Draco always tried for the last word. So far he never had.

"I'm never rugged, Pansy; I'm handsome, irresistible and sensational but never rugged. And am I going on a play date or a business meeting, really an ice-cream parlour. God."

But of course, before the door could swing back all the way behind him she had to respond.

"You can learn a lot about a man by the flavour of his ice cream!"

The parlour was bustling when he arrived. Adhering to general etiquette rules of a first meeting in his business, Draco arrived five minutes early, already sure in his own mind that his client, unless ridiculously overconfident and a cock in general, would have been sweating it out for at least fifteen minutes in a shadowed corner somewhere. It would have been cruel to make him wait the customary ten minutes of a fashionably late entrance.

Draco spotted him almost immediately. He was predictably shuffling uncomfortably in a corner booth looking entirely like he was doing some unethical dealing, which wasn't exactly a lie if he was as sanctimonious as the guilt in his eyes claimed.

He was attractive, in his own way, Draco supposed. His hair was a frazzled mess, quite possibly, Draco thought as he sidled closer whilst his target dragged his fingers over his scalp, due to a nervous habit. His skin was golden although part of the healthy glow could be contributed to the nervous sweat that was breaking out over his broad forehead. He was clean cut apart from this, jaw taut with tension; clean-shaven thank god because really Draco hated having to play cutesy with a man whilst his stubble scratched half his face off.

There wasn't a single roll of flab to be seen or at least not from the decreasing distance of four tables away. But then again clothes could be deceptive. His hands were everywhere in his nervousness; fingering his hair, fiddling with the top button of his shirt (a washed out green that should have been flattering but made him look older and overly stressed) and twirling the plain, silver band on his right ring finger.

His nostrils flared slightly when his eyes darted to Draco before he dismissed him and his attention was grabbed by someone dawdling in the background. Conclusion: low self-esteem, thinks himself unworthy of being associated with popularity and confident persons; i.e. himself.

Draco couldn't help the little quirk of his lips.

He smoothed down the buttons of his pale blue shirt, which incidentally made his hair glow and his eye sparkle, and slid his fingers through his artfully tussled locks - 'don't look at me, Draco darling, or even I'd be tempted to shag you' - before sidling forward with an impassively polite smirk - best not to scare a client off with overconfidence - and an outstretched hand - with perfectly manicured fingernails of course.

The green of Potter's irises were electric and wide when they finally stopped stuttering about and met his own cool gaze. He twitched back in his seat before his brain caught up with the situation and general social etiquette. His hand was sweaty and spasming in Draco's own and it was pure actor's skill alone that kept Draco from sliding out of his grip and wiping his palm down the side of his fashionably dark jeans; sweat marks just were not appealing and this man was about to pay him a mega-tonne in gold to be his companion.

"H-harry Potter," he stuttered, wriggling further against the cushion beneath his buttocks. His voice was deep but had a melodic softness that came with the slightly northern lilt; not that Draco was any good at geography.

"Draco Malfoy." He snapped his coat from his shoulder, magically materialising his wallet - suave Italian leather, tan. "Can I get you anything to eat? We are in an ice cream parlour after all." He flashed one of his quiet, dashing smiles.

"Shouldn't I be paying? I'm the erm...employer, aren't I?"

"Mr Potter...Harry, may I call you that?" Potter squinted up at him warily through his dense fringe, clearly sceptical. "While it is true you are paying for my time I need you to completely forget this fact." Frown wrinkles slithered across his forehead, barely visible but the squeezing of his eyes gave it away. "Excluding the conversation we will have when I whisk you away to buy appropriate attire for daylight, for all intents and purposes this is our first date starting when I sit down and blush as I hesitantly take your hand,." Potter took a breath as if to ask a question but Draco continued non-the-less. "You don't seem to have thought this through. You're going to introduce me to your childhood friends in less than a week. How well do you think they know you?"

"Better than anyone, of course!" Potter snapped back immediately with righteous outrage. Draco smirked - attractively.

"And because of Weasley's family and your 'tragic orphan saved' image, you're bound to spread rumours back to him through social interactions, even if you're unaware of it. Therefore, what do you think will happen when you show up with me at his wedding with no gossip to back up your 'love sick' status?"

"I...well...I'm not sure..."

"Trust me, Harry," Draco purred leaning forward suggestively, "I know what I'm doing. You're going to wish you had bought into my entire range of skills by the time we meet your mates and they'll never know it's an act because, although it won't have been love at first sight swept up into a whirlwind romance, there will be lust, there will be heat and, by Circe, there will be sexual tension. Now, what ice cream do you want?"

Hope you liked it.

Please review.

Bella