A/N: Hello, dear readers. I was struck by this plot bunny a while back, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I simply had to write it. For those of you unfamiliar with the movie, this story is loosely based on How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. I highly recommend it.

For the purposes of this story, book 7 basically didn't happen. Harry and Dumbledore managed to destroy all of the Horcruxes in HBP, but Dumbledore still died. The Battle of Hogwarts still happened, but it was in July between their 6th and 7th years. Harry defeated Voldemort, most of the Death Eaters were rounded up and arrested, and Snape was still killed for the Elder Wand. And because all of this happened when it did, Hogwarts was able to rebuild (yay magic!) and start the school year on time. Hermione and Draco are Head Boy and Girl. Additionally, these two will probably behave OOC throughout the story. It's the nature of the thing, you see.

General thing to be aware of: if you have seen the movie, then you will recognize scenes throughout this story that mirror scenes in the movie. Also, I don't own the movie, nor anything HP related. It's a shame, that.

Now, without further ado, I present to you:

How to Lose a Malfoy in Ten Days

Chapter One

"Watch where you're going, Potty!" Draco snapped upon ramming his shoulder into the aforementioned boy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle, who were standing behind him as usual, cracked their knuckles menacingly.

"Me?" Potter exclaimed incredulously. "You ran into me, Ferret!"

Draco scoffed. "Please. As if I would purposefully infect myself with your Gryffindor germs."

"I hate you, Malfoy."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"Just stay away from me."

Draco sneered. "Or maybe you should stay away from me. You and your stupid friends are always sticking your noses where they don't belong. Especially the Mudblood." He said this last part as he looked directly at Hermione Granger.

Potter and Weasley both whipped their wands out of their pockets.

"Don't. Call. Her. That," Weasley hissed.

"Ron, don't. It's what Malfoy wants," Granger interjected as she physically lowered the weasel's wand. "Put your wand away, Harry."

Draco simply raised an eyebrow. "You two are so whipped that you'll take orders from a stick-up-her-arse prude. Pathetic."

"Shut it Malfoy!" Potter snapped. "At least we have friends. All you have are slaves."

"Yeah!" Weasley echoed stupidly.

"Come on, he's not worth it," Granger said. She grabbed Potter and Weasley by an arm each and began dragging them down the hall. "Let's just go."

"Yeah, do as your little princess says and piss off," Draco yelled after them, roaring with laughter. "See what I did there? Potty joke."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly. Draco smirked in satisfaction at a joke well told. Potter just scowled at him. Eh, it was his loss that he couldn't appreciate a good joke.

Potter snarled at him once more, then allowed Granger to drag him off down the corridor with Weasley. Draco shrugged nonchalantly and led his two cronies to the Slytherin common room. He slouched onto a sofa in front of the fireplace, right next to his best friend Blaise Zabini.

"Crabbe, Goyle, bugger off," he instructed them. The two burly boys shrugged and slunk to their dormitories.

"Malfoy."

"Zabini."

Blaise turned to him. "I'm bored."

"Wanna get drunk?" Draco suggested.

"On what?" Blaise rolled his eyes. "Butterbeer isn't even all that alcoholic."

Draco smirked. "I didn't say it would be Butterbeer, did I?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow in question.

"Raided my father's liquor cabinet over Christmas break," Draco said imperiously. "How's Firewhisky sound?"

"Excellent."

Draco reached into his bag and pulled out the nearly full bottle. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured two shot glasses out of thin air. He filled one to the brim and handed it to Blaise, then filled his own.

"Cheers," Blaise murmured.

He tapped his glass against Blaise's, then downed the drink in one go.

"What are we doing with our lives?" Blaise asked pensively as Draco refilled their glasses.

Draco gave him a sideways look. "We're seventeen. Who cares?"

His friend shrugged. "Okay, so we're seventeen," he said, gulping down his second shot of Firewhisky. "Then why aren't we out there shagging every girl that'll have us?"

"I could have any girl I want," Draco protested. "She'd be in my bed with just a crook of my finger."

Blaise snorted. "I'm not touching that," he snickered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Zabini."

"You asked anyone to the Easter Ball yet?"

"What's with all this talk of love?" Draco groaned. "Why not talk about Quidditch or even—Salazar forbid—the latest History of Magic essay? Even that topic would be more tolerable."

"Shut up and give me more whiskey," Blaise demanded.

Draco obliged with another roll of his eyes and downed his own third shot.

Blaise swayed in his seat a little as he said, "Truth or dare?"

"What?" Draco asked him incredulously.

"Aw, c'mon," his friend whined. "I'm bored. Indulge me for a bit, would you?"

"Fine. Truth." Draco slouched deeper into his seat.

"Er . . . are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?"

"The Slytherin Sex God ones."

Draco felt his face redden, and was suddenly glad the lighting was so dim in the common room. "Oh. Those rumors. I thought you were the one that started them."

"Then they're not true?" Blaise asked smugly.

"Shut up! I didn't say that!"

"You didn't say they were true either," he pointed out.

"Salazar, Zabini. Do you really need to know?"

"We're best mates, Malfoy. According to Parkinson, blokes talk about their sexual prowess or whatever."

"Parkinson's an idiot," Draco groused. "You can't trust anything she says."

"True enough. But I still want to know."

Draco sighed dramatically. "Merlin, Blaise. You're a git, you know that?"

"A git and proud," he quipped.

"If I tell you, then you have to answer the same," Draco finally bargained.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "That's not how this game works."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose before pouring himself another shot of Firewhisky. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not a man-whore, if that's what you're asking," he muttered without opening his eyes. "But I'm not a virgin, either. Happy?"

Blaise clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Not really, no. But I'll take what I can get. Your turn."

"Truth or dare," Draco asked after chugging his shot of whiskey.

"Dare, obviously," Blaise said with a wicked smirk.

"Zabini, this is stupid," Draco complained.

"Drink some more Firewhisky. It gets funner the more drunk you are," he explained with pseudo-patience.

"Sure it does."

"No, really."

"Fine."

An hour later, the Firewhisky was completely gone. Draco lay draped across the arm of the couch, occasionally giggling. Blaise had fallen out of his seat at one point. His head rested on the floor, and his feet stuck straight up in the air. Neither of them seemed to notice.

"I could" —Draco hiccupped— "I could get any girl in this school to fall in love with me."

Blaise snorted. "Yeah right. You can't get anyone better than Pansy to shag you."

Draco sat up and stared down at Blaise. "Yeah?" he slurred. "Why don't we bet on it?"

"What's the wager?" Blaise slurred in response.

"Er . . . not money . . . that's boring . . ."

"Yeah." After a long pause, Blaise asked, "Loser has to do the other's homework for the rest of the year?"

Draco shook his head. "Nah. Then one of us wouldn't pass NEWTs. What about loser has to sleep in the Forbidden Forest for a week?"

Blaise smirked. "I've got a better idea. If I win, you have to give up your position as Head Boy and give it to me."

"And what do I get if I win?" he slurred.

"You get to stay Head Boy."

Draco shook his head woozily. "Not good enough. I could just say no to the bet and keep it anyway."

"Fair enough. If you win, I have to sleep outside for the rest of the year." At Draco's skeptical look, he added, "And not get caught by Filch while doing it." Blaise managed to sling his arm far enough to shake Draco's hand.

After another short pause, Draco reached out and shook his friend's hand. "So, do I just start dating some random bird or what?"

"Nope. I'm going to pick the bird."

"Whatever."

"I've got the perfect girl," a voice behind them said.

Draco turned around. "Parkinson? What the hell are you doing interrupting our conversation?"

She folded her arms impetuously. "What does it matter? Scared that Blaise'll win?"

"Shut up! I am not!"

She smirked. "Then you'll date the girl I pick out."

He turned to Blaise. "Are you really going to let her butt in like this?"

Blaise pulled himself up off the floor and into a sitting position. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Hermione Granger," Parkinson said.

Draco fell off of the sofa. "What?"

Blaise nodded. "That's a great idea."

"In your dreams!" Draco shouted.

"Nope, you already shook on it. You have to get Hermione Granger to fall in love with you by the Easter Ball," Parkinson gloated.

"Only ten days?"

"Don't think you can do it?" Blaise taunted.

"I can do it, Blaise! Shut up!" Draco crawled back onto the sofa and glared at his best friend. "You're on. Hermione Granger won't know what's hit her."

"Good. You start tomorrow."

Draco passed out trying to come up with ways to get Granger to change her opinion of him. The only thing he'd managed to figure was that he really ought to stop calling her a Mudblood.