The Bet

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've had a busy couple of months, but here you go. Enjoy, hopefully.

-Lex

Fire Whiskey and Arguments and Bets, Oh My!

SHE WAS STARTING TO QUESTION HER OWN SANITY BY THE TIME SHE'D GONE home. Who was she doing this for? Herself or her friends? Did she need a drink this badly?

(Yes.)

If she did need a drink, and she wasn't saying she did, then she could just drink at home. Honestly, it would be safer to drink at home than at some random pub with her friends and a couple of untrustworthy men. As a feeling of sadness washed over her, she decided that she needed to go out. She could not stay cooped up in here forever, especially not with Ron being everywhere she looked: in pictures, his socks in the bit of floor right next to the hamper, his ratty t-shirt she'd taken for herself as collateral for Ron losing a poker game…

Realizing her train of thought was leading nowhere good, she jumped, walking over to Crookshanks, who had been napping in "his" armchair, and petting him. He opened his eyes blearily, glaring up at her, and looking like he wanted her to do nothing more but to stop touching him that instant.

She sighed, putting her hand on her cheek. She really needed to get out of her flat.

Ginny Weasley was used to being called a lot of things. Some of them were not declarations of love towards her, to her great surprise. Because really, she was awesome. She was used to being called one thing specifically, though: a good friend.

And no awesome person, or good friend, could let Hermione Granger willow away into antisocial nothingness. So tonight, they were going out to a great pub, with great liquor, and great food, and great dancing, and great everything.

As she slipped her black dress over her body, she also briefly considered that getting Hermione drunk with Draco and Blaise in attendance would not exactly do wonders for her reputation. But then again, she'd already puked on Blaise's good shoes and accidentally spit in Draco's chips that one time, so really how bad could it be?

If anything, this would help merge what would become their new, odd circle of friends. If anyone had told her she'd be friends with two slytherins, least of all, Draco Malfoy, the Magical Bouncing Ferret, she would have laughed in their face. But things change, and this was a change she was all for.

Of course, she'd initially hated the idea of associating with either of them, especially Draco, but she had to admit that Blaise had really won her over. As far as she was concerned, anyone who could look so pristinely attractive while making her a drink was considered family.(And also they were expected to teach her all their magic liquor tricks.) Harry had been a lot more understanding than she'd thought he'd be about this weird connection between their two groups, but she realized that maybe there were some things he kept to himself. She knew she did.

Regardless, it was weird to see how okay with everything Harry had been. Of course, he'd expressed worry about Draco in general, but that was expected, if not guaranteed.

As she put on her heels, she remembered how Draco had reacted to her subtle teasing about Hermione. He had gone beet red, a color so obvious on his pale face that it had been hilarious to look at. She hoped she had another chance to provoke that reaction from him soon.

She felt a little bad, though, now that she thought about what potentially weird, friendship ruining memories could pop up in both Hermione and Draco's heads. She sighed, slumping against her pillows.

Merlin, being considerate sucked. It ruined all her good joke material. What would Fred and George do?

Probably make the joke anyway, actually.

Draco sneered in the mirror as he buttoned up his waistcoat. "Come to lunch with us, Draco. It will be fun, you said. Let's go to the pub tonight, you said. I'm not forgetting to mention that bloody Hermione Granger will be there, because that would be stupid of me, Draco."

Blaise rolled his eyes as he buttoned his shirt cuffs. "Oh, get over it, you bastard. Ginny told you."

Draco turned sharply around. "Yes, and you were supposed to tell me before that so I could have prepared, you tactless tosser."

Blaise snorted as he put cologne on. "Prepared for what, exactly? It's not like you can control your giant boner for Granger." When he turned to face Draco, he had to laugh at the horrified expression on his face. "I'm just kidding, mate."

Draco sat down on his friend's lavish couch, pretending that there wasn't a garter hanging off the arm. He frowned, staring at his best friend. "Fuck you."

Blaise laughed again, this time harder, but sobered up when he caught a glimpse of Draco's stony face. "Come on, Draco, you knew you were going to have to talk to her eventually."

"No, I most certainly did not."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're being a kid. Did you ever even thank her for her testimony?"

Draco's scowl grew larger as Blaise patted his back. "Well, then today's the day you get drunk enough to admit to Granger that you are eternally grateful."

"Wonderful," Draco spat out. Just bloody wonderful.

Hermione looked Ginny Weasley dead in the eye. "No. Absolutely not. Sod off."

Luna laughed softly, sitting on Hermione's couch with Crookshanks in her lap. She was wearing a silvery blue sundress on top of a pink one and she had earrings that looked like Pygmy Puffs. Her light blonde, wispy hair was in a braid, flowers intertwined with the strands. It was so loose on top that strands had begun to fall out already and frame her face, though she looked a bit unkempt.

Ginny, on the other hand, had her hair curled and was in a slimming black dress that glittered occasionally in the right light. The juxtaposition of the two in the same room was striking to the eye and brought out their differences, which made it all the weirder that they both agreed on what dress Hermione should be wearing.

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Why not? You look great in this dress."

Hermione shook her head. "It's too short, Gin."

Ginny rolled her eyes at that. "No, it's not. If you can bend down without someone seeing your unmentionables, it's long enough."

She threw the dress at Hermione, who was starting to waver in her determination. She had bought this dress a long time ago, thinking it would be slightly longer on her and failing to try it on. She had miscalculated the size of her backside, which admittedly was not that large, but it was large enough that the dress hiked up slightly. She'd never worn it out on account of Ron's jealousy. It's not that he couldn't contain himself, but it was unnecessary to color their dates with negative emotions when she could wear something else.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she held it in her hands and nodded slightly, agreeing to wear it. It would be a step outside her comfort zone, but she'd maybe wear some tights under it and that would make her feel more comfortable. She smiled back Ginny's huge, toothy grin, then walked out of the living room and into her bedroom to change.

Maybe this could be fun. Just maybe.

Okay, so this was not even close to being fun at all, she silently admitted to herself.

She had most definitely miscalculated. It was loud and crowded, and she already wanted to go home, and they'd just sat down at their "usual" booth, apparently. Obviously, she wasn't used to the booth at all, but she couldn't say the same for her friends. She ran her fingers through her curly hair, separating the somewhat stiff strands that Ginny had insisted adding moose to, trying to get rid of the slight anxiety she felt.

She knew going out would be good for her in the long run, but she was pretty uncomfortable with the amount of people there and their lack of volume control, not to mention the way she self-conciously kept tugging her dress down, even though she knew it was long enough that she didn't have anything to worry about. She looked over at Ginny, who was animatedly chatting with Luna and wished she had even a fragment of the comfort Ginny had with her own body.

At least Draco and Blaise weren't there yet. It would give her time to calm down or get drunk, whichever happened first.

Draco had spent the entire time Blaise was getting ready muttering like an old man. Blaise was taking forever to get ready, that much was true, but Draco hadn't been complaining about that obvious truth, and instead seemed only focused on the fact that he'd have to face Hermione Granger for the first time in years, something which he was surprisingly adept at avoiding given the circles he was running in lately.

"Merlin's beard, could you shut your mouth for a minute? You're giving me a headache," Blaise complained, ignoring the scowl Draco was sending his way. "You were the one who asked why Granger wasn't there, weren't you? Brought this upon yourself."

Draco scoffed. "I was curious, Blaise, not asking for it."

Blaise shook his head. "Whatever, mate. It's time we get going, so put on your big boy trousers and suck it up. You'll have to make small talk with Granger for one evening while we all get deliberately arseholed, not try and fix the Ministry of Magic in one go."

Draco nodded stiffly, but his eyes were still the same as before, petulantly wanting to stay home and just avoid her at all costs. It had been mortifying enough when Hermione Granger, "Brightest Witch of her Age" and all that barmy crap, had testified at his hearing. Of course, Harry bleeding Potter had also testified, but that was different.

He braced himself for the odd feeling apparation left in his stomach. It was different, he continued thinking.

They had a different sort of relationship. Potter thought he was a git, and he thought Potter was a wanker. Granger, however… Granger he had teased mercilessly, harassed, and bullied for the better part of his years at Hogwarts. She had been tortured by his crazed aunt on top of that, so when she showed up, prim and proper in her suit, with her curly hair in a bun and dark circles beneath her eyes that still weren't gone, to testify towards his pardon, he had wanted to literally drown himself in his bathtub. It was like it couldn't be helped, the goodness inside of her just had to fucking come out and make her feel indebted to him. She wasn't. Nobody was. He had been fully expecting a sentence, as well as his father receiving a longer one.

Instead, because they had "defected"— which to him was a generous term, given his total cowardice and his father's general arseholery— they had gotten away relatively scot-free. Him in particular, more so because of his youth. But he supposed that his lie about Potter's face and his mother's lie about Potter's death— it is all about Potter all the time, isn't it? — had been enough to secure their pardon. Their assets had been frozen for nearly three years, and it had allowed some debt to accumulate, but that was nothing compared to what he thought they'd receive. They'd been allowed to keep their wands, though they had been confined to some extreme magic tracking spells for several months after the hearing.

And he had Hermione Granger to thank for it. (And to a lesser degree, Harry Potter, but he'd probably have to be dead first before he'd thank him at all.)

Maybe it was his guilt that made him avoid thanking her. Actually no, there was no maybe, that was literally it. His mother would have his head mounted on the wall if she knew he'd never actually sent that Thank You note she'd gotten made for the occasion. How do you thank someone who suffered at your hand for saving your sorry ass?

Probably not by refusing to look her in the eyes, but hey, at least he was in her presence now, he thought to himself, as he looked around the pub. Blaise was already several strides ahead of him, probably excited to ruin his life in the course of one night.

He sighed and followed, and sat down, of course, right across from Hermione fucking Granger. He gave her a slight nod of his head, which she responded to slightly uneasily. He sighed and flagged a young man carrying a tray down. "Bring me some fire whiskey, would you?"

"A glass, sir, or a bottle?"

He allowed himself to glance at her, fidgeting with her dress, before glaring intensely at the server. "Both."

After a few glasses of fire whiskey, he felt a lot more comfortable being around Hermione Granger. Still, he was nowhere near comfortable enough to actually talk to her.

"Oooh!" he heard Ginny squeal. "We should get some champagne to celebrate Hermione's promotion!"

Luna nodded softly, her eyes focused on the imaginary circles she was tracing on Blaise's forearm, his sleeves rolled up.

As Ginny got up, Blaise grinned at Hermione. "A promotion, eh? Feels good, I bet."

Hermione let a tiny smile show through, having become a little more comfortable with Blaise's presence. "It does. I've been transferred to Magical Law Enforcement. I've worked hard in my previous department, you know, with house elves' rights—"

Draco had snorted at that, and Hermione had glared at him through the corner of her eye before focusing back on Blaise. Ginny had just returned with a champagne bottle in her hand, sitting down and looking at the awkward silence with a confused expression. She glanced at Luna, who seemed slightly on edge.

"— and things like that, so it was gratifying to move up to a department where I'm freer to challenge more unjust laws."

That was followed by another snort on Draco's part.

She was stirring her fire whiskey, then let her anger spill out. "And just what was that snort, Malfoy? Or are you not a proponent of rights?" She narrowed her eyes at him, letting her mistrust and years of dislike towards him show slightly.

He rolled his eyes in response, slumping his cheek against his long hand. "I am a proponent of rights for all, Granger. You'd be happy to know that my childhood indoctrination, through much reading and personal grievance, has almost completely vanished."

He bit the inside of his cheek before taking a gulp of his glass. The liquor burned where his teeth had just dug into his flesh, but it was a sobering kind of stinging. He had no idea where this sudden eloquence and verbosity in Granger's presence had come from, but if he didn't maintain it, he'd make an ass of himself. Of course, that shouldn't matter in the slightest to him, but through the course of the evening, he found himself craving her approval. It was… inconvenient at best. He assumed it was probably left over guilt and a misguided sense of gratitude, but he had actually changed a lot since the last time she saw him. It wouldn't hurt to let her see that.

"Oh? So what was that all about?" she replied, her face colored red and indignant.

He couldn't help but crack a smile at the strands of hair that seemed to messily move with her face as she spoke. "House elves, in particular, seem to like serving others. While it is commendable that you care so much about them, they seem to not care much about the law."

Hermione shook her head, irritated. "Of course they don't. After centuries of indentured servitude, of slavery, do you honestly think they care about the law? Magical law, which has only served to reinforce their submissive nature and led to their exploitation?"

He gulped down the rest of his fire whiskey. "No one's arguing about the nature of magical law with you, Granger. It's all dirty politics and brown nosing. But regardless of how they are affected, you must admit that house elves are exactly that: submissive. They live to serve. It's not that the law shouldn't be changed to protect them from less than decent masters, or perhaps to include the mandatory payment for their services, but that you seem to ignore that they don't particularly want to be 'saved'," he finished off, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Hermione glared at him again, putting her fire whiskey down. "That's because they've been abused and have developed a psychologically dependant relationship with their masters! Honestly, what a load of codswallop! If they wanted to stay like that, why would the presenting of clothes and their subsequent freedom carry so much weight?"

This time, he met her glare, staring calmly into her eyes as she furiously sipped her third glass of fire whiskey that night. He knew Blaise was burning holes into his head, and that Luna and Ginny were probably unsure of how to even get between this argument. He knew he should stop. Instead, he felt the words tumble out of his mouth. "You said it. Psychologically dependant creatures. Do you honestly think it wise to suddenly sever that relationship with one law? That wouldn't backfire, would it?" He knew he probably sounded condescending, but then again, he usually was.

"First of all," Hermione retorted fiercely, "it is incredibly astounding that you seem to assume that I have no knowledge of psychology or how to deal with psychological trauma, given both my heritage and my past."

He flinched at that before he could stop it, and she saw it. He knew she did because for a second, she almost looked unsure about tearing him a new one, but one lift of his eyebrow had convinced her to keep going. "Secondly, who in their right mind would try to fix centuries of abuse and psychological dependency with one law? And finally," she said, glaring at him ferociously, "while you are entitled to your own opinion, no matter how utterly idiotic and useless it is, I suggest you stick to doing whatever it is you do at Malfoy International— killing people's hopes and dreams, probably— and leave the social reform to those qualified to do it!"

She was almost panting, her chest slightly heaving, obviously upset. He had hoped for light small talk that would make it easier for him to perhaps thank her for her testimony and get these unresolved feelings of gratitude out of the way, but he'd gotten this infuriating conversation instead, and now his head was pounding because of it. Or was that the fire whiskey already catching up to him? It was the first time in a long, long time that he had the kind of conversation that made him think. Maybe in a different life, he and Granger could have been friends.

"Wow," he managed to get out. "I can honestly see why they transferred you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even outside of court, you could probably talk fugitives to death."

She gaped at him, ready to screech out a comeback at the top of her lungs when Blaise's throaty chuckle rang throughout their booth. They both turned to face him sharply, Hermione furious and just about ready to boil, and Draco looking annoyed but not the least surprised with his friend. "Seriously, Blaise?" he asked, irritated.

He managed to stop laughing, responding with an out of breath, "I'm sorry, but that was too much. This was hilarious. It was like watching the angriest game of verbal table tennis I've ever witnessed."

Draco rolled his eyes at that, and Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at Blaise with a face that said that whatever points he had managed to earn on her good side were in danger of disappearing.

He wiped his finger underneath his eye, making a show of cleaning up the tears his laughter had brought. "Merlin, you two still can't stomach each other. Imagine if this had been a date," Blaise had snickered to Ginny. "I don't think either of them would have made it out alive!"

Ginny allowed herself an unladylike snort before speaking up for her friend. "Oh, I'm sure Hermione would make it out just fine! It's Draco you'd be right to worry about. You might find a mangled ferret on your doorstep one day."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's comment, but felt herself fill up with a strange sort of pride due to Ginny's quick and loyal defense. She had great friends.

Blaise shook his head, laughing, ignoring the glare Draco was sending his way. He sent every threat he knew mentally in his direction. The killing intent that surrounded him was so dense it might actually physically manifest itself, envelop Blaise, and choke him to death, but Blaise kept going anyway. "Sure, Gin, if you say so, but I doubt even Hermione has enough patience to put up with this bratty git!"

Draco and Hermione both responded with the same incensed expression, only they had very different replies, with Draco snarling out an extremely feral "Fuck you, Zabini!" and Hermione spitting out an indignant "I have more than enough patience, I'll have you know!" instead.

Blaise let an entirely animalistic grin take over his face, with Draco realizing much too late where this conversation was heading. "Oh, is that so? Prove it, Granger." With a disgruntled sigh, he buried his head in his arms and waited for it all to end in flames, because that was what Blaise seemed to be doing. "Go out with Draco, then. If you can't make it past one date, you certainly have no chance at lasting a month!"

As Hermione sputtered out a half-arsed excuse, Draco reached out to grab his bottle of fire whiskey without even lifting his head up. Maybe if he was completely pissed in the morning, he could get out of this. "That's ridiculous. I'd have to be barking mad to even consider it!" She took a big gulp of her drink, because if she was sober enough to understand this conversation, she obviously wasn't drunk enough.

Blaise allowed himself a slow stretch of his arms and legs before stifling a yawn with his hand. "Hmm, let's see if I can get you barking mad then," he said, grinning. "If you manage to date Draco for an entire month, I'll publicly offer my extremely positive, yet completely earnest, opinion of the new house elves' rights bill you're trying to pass."

Hermione's mouth hung open in shock, and Draco's head shot right out of his arms. "You absolute wanker, she's not going to let you buy her off! Does she look like Cornelius Fudge to you?"

Luna finally let out the laugh she'd been trying to hold in, with Ginny following suit. Blaise grinned cheekily at him, then looked good-naturedly at Hermione. "It is, I solemnly swear, my completely earnest opinion."

The Zabinis were still pretty big in Wizarding society, Hermione knew. His support could be vital. As the liquor finally seemed to start kicking in, she managed to close her mouth, her throat feeling dry and brittle. "Okay."

Draco sunk his fingers into his blond hair, latching on firmly to his scalp. He knew he had no say in this, because if he didn't agree to it, everyone would gang up on him. What was Blaise trying to do? He wanted to thank her somewhat, not bone her. Honestly, he was sure the headache he was sporting right now was caused by one person and one person alone, his name being Blaise Zabini, though he doubted anyone would recognize him by sight after tonight.

"Perfect," he heard Blaise's silky voice say. "I'm sure Draco would be more than happy to comply."

Maybe it was the liquor, he thought to himself, but he honestly didn't give a rat's ass anymore. He was going to beat the shit out of Blaise Zabini.

Warm sunlight streamed in through her window, and Hermione Granger found her eyes burning at the too bright light. Groaning, she rolled around in her blankets, trying to make sense of the killer hangover she was sporting. She knew she didn't have work today because it was a holiday, and she knew she had gone drinking last night with her friends and…

She clutched her stomach to combat the feeling that it had dropped one-hundred feet downwards. She had agreed to date Draco Malfoy.

For a month. So that Blaise could support her new proposal. She was pretty sure that was insanely corrupt, but as she hugged her pillow, she thought of his words. If it truly was his completely earnest opinion, then she really wasn't doing anything wrong, right? Merlin, why had she thought getting continuously drunk was a good idea? Probably because she had already been drunk to begin with.

Her mind flashed to her heated argument with Malfoy, and she pulled the blanket over her head and groaned.

How in hell was she going to do this?