My first HP fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it. ;)

Disclaimer- I do not own Draco, Hermione, or anything else related to Harry Potter.


Slamming his mug down onto the thick wooden table, Draco Malfoy sighed a breath of anger. How on earth could his father suggest something so entirely disgusting, right to his own face? It was just purely out of the question. It would never happen. Not even in his craziest dreams. Maybe nightmares…but not dreams.

With a shake of his head and after running a hand through his hair, Draco brought the mug to his lips again, letting the hot liquid swish into his mouth and roll down his dry throat. His eyes' slipped shut as the ecstasy of the drink flowed down into his body and spread. His mind then reverted back to his previous thoughts of what had happened earlier that wreck of a day.

"Draco," his father started, with a cold, expressionless glint in his eyes, "it is the best thing to do. You must start a family sometime, boy."

If only it was that easy.

Draco's father had then went on to suggest his current love interest. He obviously didn't know that Draco truthfully held no feelings for the girl whatsoever. She was merely an excuse. A person to visit when he needed something to do. A toy.

Pansy Parkinson. She was a pureblood, of course. Why if she hadn't been, Mr. Malfoy wouldn't have said her name. Not even if he were being threatened with something including his hair and a big, scary, shiny, sharp, pair of scissors. Dreadful, but, yes, it was that important. Pureblood? That's just jolly. Muggle-born? 'No, son, back away from the dirty, filthy, mudblood. It's just not done.'

And to tell the truth, Pansy was not someone who was sought after. Though she was quite pretty, with her fair skin, and dark, shiny black hair, males were easily attracted to her. But in truth, she was…well…how can I put this nicely?

A brainless, shameless, twit.

Sometimes Draco really had to look at her and wonder.

'What in Lord's name is filling that cavity in her head?'

That bad, I tell you. Terrible. You may think you'll never live to see the day when a girl starts to mix up what is living and what is not. Snogging a park bench… I mean, come on! (Though Pansy insists, the bench was coming onto her.) But…it has been done. Find your calendar and a permenant marker. That was a day in history to be remembered (and usually to be accompanied by a shudder or two…and series of gags).

The door to the Three Broomsticks then flew open, bells chiming as it hit the wall and a loud bang as it fell back shut. Hurried footsteps rushed across the wooden floor, a squeak erupting with each step. And before Draco could examine the brown haired person properly, she had disappeared through another door and into the kitchen. A few shouts then sounded on the other side of the door and Draco smirked. They happened to include a few vulgar comments after the point was made that whoever just burst in the diner, was supposedly very, very late.

And was that a threat to quit, he heard? Maybe that would explain their serious lack of employees.

Draco let his gaze set back on the beverage in his mug. His thoughts tossed around in his jumbled brain as he breathed deep the aroma of the liquid. Apparently he was too busy to notice that the door from the kitchens had been roughly pushed open and a girl, his very age, walked from the room. And without noticing he was there either, she busied herself behind the bar. Picking up a damp towel, she began to wipe down the table, her mind about set on fire after what had just happened between her and her boss.

Draco then downed the rest of the liquid and pushed it towards the waitress, whom he had finally noticed, but not taken any care to look at. The waitress turned on her heal knowing that someone was trying to get her attention, but froze immediately.

Her eyes' fell upon the boy sitting at the bar, his back slumped, and his head hanging. Her face grew into an unconscious glare and she crossed her arms on her chest as she examined, with utter repulsion, the white-blonde hair hanging down in front of the boy's eyes. He brought up his pale hand and ran it through his hair, moving his icy gray eyes' to her face. It was Malfoy.

The bastard of all bastards.

Here.

In this diner.

During her shift.

Oh, how bloody fantastic…

His face automatically wrinkled up and he blinked a few times making sure that he wasn't seeing things. "Granger?" he asked, his voice cold, yet full of surprise. "What in the hell are you doing here?" Hermione Granger (the girl who happened to be the waitress) narrowed her eyes' and crossed her arms tighter across her chest in annoyance. He was getting to her already.

"Please, Malfoy," she snapped back. Oh, hell…this was just her day, wasn't it? Like it wasn't enough to toss and turn the entire night before, not get one minute of sleep, come to work abnormally late, threaten to quit, and then this!

Someone wanted her to commit suicide. It had to be just that.

Draco chuckled and sat back, folding his hands on the table, a grin spread across his lips. That grin surely meant something bad was coming. Hermione could just feel it. "I see the one and only Granger had trouble finding a job," he stated, his voice drawling and ridiculing. "Or did this just happen to be your first choice?" he added. "I can really see the over abundance of prosperity."

Hermione clenched her fists and walked over to the bar grabbing a bottle. She stood before him, her eyes' narrowed as she forcefully ripped the cork from the bottle and poured some more liquid into his mug. And with a fake smile, she turned on her heel and shoved the bottle back into it's spot, taking her rag again and washing the tables.

"Now, now, mudblood. No need to be hostile. I just simply wonder why the highest ranking student…" he said, but stopped immediately when Hermione turned to face him, her face holding every emotion from anger to annoyance to almost homicidal.

"I have a job lined up, thank you," she finished, her nose rising in the air slightly as she spoke to him.

"Oh I see. And what would that be, Granger?" he questioned, examining the liquid in his cup and then looking back up at the witch before him. His pale eyes' raked over her thin form as she stood there, contemplating whether she should tell him or just simply cut his throat now. Hermione huffed as a small smirk began to tug at the corners of his lips. He was checking her out, no doubt. But smirking! This was just disturbing. It was almost as if the bile was lifting in her throat already. Where were the bloody buckets when she needed them?

"I'm doing further studies."

"And why in the world would you want to do that!" he asked, clearly forgetting that this was Hermione Granger he was speaking to.

"To be a professor, now drink your alcohol and get out," Hermione seethed, as she turned her back to him. Her stomach felt as if it were about to explode. Her fingers raced with trembles. Her breath came in short, shallow pants. And in the midst of all these strange things happening, Hermione insisted to herself that she felt as sick as a little boy who'd just drank a gallon of whole milk.

She couldn't take his piercing gaze on her body any longer. It was downright nauseating.

"My, my, aren't we the chipper one this morning," he drawled, taking another sip from his mug, never tearing his eyes' from her. Draco couldn't remember Hermione ever looking as she did now. But when he remembered the large cloaks they had to wear in Hogwarts, he nodded to himself. Too bad those years were wasted torturing her. Draco could never come to terms with the odd satisfaction of seeing her riled up though. So he just dusted it to the back of his mind to be forgotten.

"Depends on how you would define that…" she grumbled as she began to pull out bottles from under the bar and place them on the counter behind her.

"What was that?" Draco asked, his smirk reaching ear to ear as she fumbled with everything in site. Hermione silently shook her head and scoffed.

'That arrogant, detestable, vain…' she thought as he stood from his spot and proceeded to stand on his tiptoes and stretch his back. Draco let out a loud groan and sighed, placing a few sickles down on the counter. He then picked up his black robe and after straightening out his sweater and tie, turned from the counter and began to walk towards the door.

His thin, lanky body then silently stopped in its tracks and turned to glance back at Hermione as she cleaned a few tables around the room. "Wonderful talking with you, Granger, really. But I must be back to work," he said before smirking widely and walking out the door into the chilling fall wind.


"Uck! I can't believe him!" Hermione growled as she walked into the small shop in Hogsmeade with her best friend at her side. Harry smiled, breathing in the sweet smells of the shop as he began to look around.

"Can't believe who?" he asked subconsciously as a girl no older thanthirteen grinned at him from afar. This, he got this often.

"I'll give you one guess." Hermione swayed one finger in front of Harry's face as she walked.

"Ron?"

"No." Harry shrugged. "Malfoy," Hermione said, her tone low, yet dangerous. Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, the one and only. He came into theThree Broomsticks this morning," she said, disgust dripping from every last word.

"What happened?" Harry asked, stopping beside a shelf to examine a new gadget that had just come out on the wizarding market. Hermione threw her hands in the air.

"Oh, you know. Same old person as he was. I really thought that after three years of not seeing him, would have lowered my hate for him, but apparently not." Harry chuckled and motioned for her to go on. "He made wisecracks about me working there. Then he proceeded to stare me down and smirk in that appalling way of his."

By the way that Hermione was going on about Draco Malfoy, it may seem to any person that he was really not that attractive at all. But in truth, he was considered a very handsome man, with his silky white-blonde hair, his flawless pale skin, and his thin, tall stature. He was quite the man. Yet…when it came to considering his asshole personality, any sane girl who knew him would run away (along the way, picking up something very sharp for protection). Though no one could deny that he could be amazingly charming when he decided to be…which was not often.

"I just cannot believe him. That's all." Hermione sighed as she picked up a new version of a rememberall and cocked an eyebrow. She could get some wonderful use out of this... But with an annoyed sigh, she placed it back on the shelf and proceeded to roam around the shop, Harry right behind her. "I guess people really can never change, can they Harry?"

"Not in his case, at least," he murmured as they made their way out of the shop and began to lazily walk down the narrow, cobblestone street. The fall air began to blow through their hair, as a few owls flew over head. Hermione smiled lightly as she saw the children pouring in and out of Honeydukes. Only three or four years ago, she and Harry would have been one of those many kids with wide smiles and awe gracing their young faces. It really only seemed like yesterday. "So how are your studies going?"

Hermione waved her arm in a dismissive manner. "Fine, I guess." Harry rose an eyebrow. "I just wish that it would go a bit quicker. I mean…we have been out of Hogwarts for a little over three years."

"And you're excited to go back?" Hermione's lips curved into a embarrassed smile.

"Well…I am a bit excited. To teach, I mean." Teaching had never really been her dream, but when Dumbledore offered her...shecould neverrefuse the old bugger! He had always been too kind to her and Hermione just didn't have the heart to let him down.

"Do you have a simple idea on what you are teaching?"

"I don't assume that I get to choose exactly what I teach. I just hope that it's not divination or something…" Harry let out a hearty laugh and shook his head as Hermione grinned and looked away. He clearly remembered the day when Hermione arose from her seat and stormed out of the classroom, leaving their excentric teacher, Professor Trelawney, wondering what on earth she had done. "Dumbledore has more sense than that Harry…he knows what I think about that class," she said, adding a quiet, 'dreadful rubbish,' under her breath. "Anyway, how is being an Auror going?"

Harry shrugged and heaved a sigh. His vivid green eyes' searched the street around him before he began. "Oh, I love it. It's wonderful…but," he started, his tone becoming spiteful. "Ginny complains. She insists that I'm going to get myself hurt or whatever she rambles on about."

"Oh?" Harry nodded and Hermione continued. "What are you going to do?" she asked, her eyes' set on the ground as she silently kicked a pebble before her as she walked.

"Well…nothing, she's just got to understand that I'm happy with my profession. I tried to get Ron to persuade some sense into her, but it's useless."

Hermione jumped and she cast her gaze over to Harry, a joyful twinkle in her eye. "How is Ron these days? I haven't seen him in ages!"

"I'm not exactly sure. That was a few weeks ago since I last saw him, but I assume he's doing alright." Hermione nodded and cast her gaze back down to the ground.


With a loud gulp, Hermione swallowed down the rest of her hot cocoa and slipped the cup into the sink. Grasping her wand from her back pocket, she set a quick spell on the dishes. As soon as she did,the brushes picked themselves up and began brushing away at the dirty dishes. She grinned and walked back down the hall to her bedroom, her feet chilled slighty against the wood floor.

As she arrived in the doorway, she stopped immediately and let her jaw drop open. There on her windowsill was a very large eagle owl. It was looking towards her bed and after seeing Hermione, it hooted softly and soared out into the night. It's wings were heard flapping in the distance as she slowly walked over to the bed and picked up a small, rolled up parchment, tied with a thin green and silver ribbon. What in the world…

Hermione carefully pulled at the string and let it fall to her bed as she unrolled the parchment. It seemed to be a short note, the writing small and curvy. By God, a doctor might as well of written the note. Lord knows they have the hardest handwriting to read. Discrimination, I know. But it's true.

With a confused glint in her eyes,' Hermione raised her eyebrows and began to read the writing.

Miss Granger,

Seems polite. Worthy of going on I assume.

I am ashamed for not taking the time today to speak to you further. And with a bit over three years over our heads from graduation, I find that you have changed little.

How observant.

Obviously you must have been dying to ask me questions about my life now. Who wouldn't be? I do hold a very endearing job (and the money profit is something that anyone would like to get their hands on). I feel absolutely terrible for leaving you hanging. And although the fanmail can be a bit too much at times (and the women chasing me on the streets – though I have no idea why they usually hold some sort of weapon)…we must meet again. Tomorrow. 7:30 PM. In front of the Shrieking Shack, Granger. Be there.

Mister Draco Malfoy

Best Hair on this side of England

Hermione soon found herself lying back down on her bed. Her stomach was aching from the fits of laughter that kept erupting from her throat. This had to be a joke. A very cruel joke.

Though, somehow, she believed it. It was just like him.

Hermione read the last few lines again. One specific part sticking out in her mind. He seemed awfully demanding. But if she didn't go, she knew it would be much worse.

"Oh, bloody fuck."


Please tell me what you think!