Sorry for the delayed update – wasn't able to login for quite a while until it miraculously worked today. Enjoy!
Warning: excessive use of the F word *wink wink* but you like it.
"By Merlin, Weasley is dafter than I had originally thought," Malfoy's perfect eyebrows knitted together in befuddlement.
Hermione sent him a questioning look.
"I mean, look at you, with those enormous babalons hanging off your chest!" Malfoy said dramatically, gesturing around his chest area.
Hermione made an affronted noise, arms immediately covering her front area in a protective manner.
"Oh, please, Granger," he rolled his eyes. Hermione shook her head, going back to her lunch, "If I found you attractive, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have problems trying to snag Weasley back."
Hermione ignored him and continued munching on her food.
"But seriously," Malfoy leaned forwards, almost as if whatever he was about to say to Hermione was top-secret, "Weasley is the ultimate example of that whoever created us surely has a sense of humour. Was he dropped as a child?"
"Stop being so mean," she gave him a pointed look.
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed, slapping his knee in the process, showing his mirth. Hermione just watched him through narrowed lids and waited for him to stop and calm down.
"Now that's done and over with, I still have abso-fucking-lutely no idea why you still want the git," Malfoy drawled.
Hermione just smirked at him and offered no answer.
Malfoy sighed dramatically for the umpteenth time since their lunch-date-meeting-arrangement-shit and procured a piece of paper from his robes and slid it across the table towards her.
"What the hell is this?" Hermione demanded.
"'What the hell is this', she says, hmph," Malfoy rolled his eyes again, for the umpteenth time that Hermione feared it might get stuck.
She unfolded the paper and her eyes landed on the elegant script sprawled all over it.
Make-over
Make-up
Clothes (including push-up bras, more revealing outfits, less frumpy-Granger-outfits).
Sexy negligee
Heels
Perfume (absolute seductive smell)
Tears
"What the hell is this?" she repeated.
"Think of it as a guideline, or a checklist, if you may," Malfoy explained, examining his perfectly manicured nails.
"And this is supposed to help me win Ron over?" Hermione said, staring at the paper in deep concentration.
"Abso-fucking-lutely," Malfoy nodded, and smiled smugly.
"Is that your favourite word, Malfoy?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
Hermione sighed heavily and said, "Alright, when do we start?"
"Right the fuck away, straight after work," Malfoy said nonchalantly.
"I'm beginning to think that 'fuck' is your favourite word after all."
"Why, Granger, how presumptuous of you. On the contrary, fuck is not my favourite word," he said as he stood up, "It's my favourite thing to do."
He winked and strode towards their office like he owned the bloody place. Hermione just shook her head.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.
"So tell me something, Malfoy. How long before this completely works and I really do win Ron over? If I do win him over?" Hermione muttered bitterly towards the end of her sentence.
"You will win him over Granger, especially if I help. And give or take, less than one week."
"One week?!" Hermione screeched, almost rivalling a banshee.
"Quiet, Granger. It's bad enough that I'm seen in public with you, I don't want them to think I'm in the company of a ghastly supernatural being."
"But, Malfoy -" she protested.
"But nothing, Granger."
"You're ridiculous. One week isn't enough to win someone over!" Hermione hissed.
"Yes, it is. I have never lost a bet and I bet you Ron will fall arse-over-tit in love with you within a week. Trust me."
Before she could protest any further, Malfoy had none-too-gently pushed her into a building – which, she only realized after she stepped into, was a mall in Muggle London. Malfoy clearly knew his shit because they were immediately on the right floor, which was the Women's section. It was filled with 'women stuff' (according to Draco), ranging from makeup, to clothes, lingerie, shoes and nightwear. It was as if Malfoy planned out his list with this specific place in mind.
"First stop, we need to do something about your face," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, ignoring Hermione's bristling as she was steered by the shoulders by Malfoy right to a makeup outlet.
"I'll try to not get offended with what you just said, Malfoy," Hermione said icily.
"Oh, come now, Granger. You know you love me like that."
Hermione muttered something under her breath and Malfoy didn't even bother asking her about it. Instead, he just stepped up to the store assistant, who had been evidently checking Malfoy out since she spotted him a while ago.
"I need you to teach her how to look pretty," Malfoy told her, gesturing towards Hermione's face, "She needs it, desperately, if you can't tell."
Hermione resisted kicking him in the nuts for that, but was too distracted by the way the lady was making cow eyes at him.
Hermione smiled wryly and looked away. She wasn't the least bit surprised. If she was, well, not Hermione, and if he wasn't such a bastard to her, even she would admit that he was sex-on-legs. With that my-hair-just-rolled-out-of-bed idea that he stole from Harry Potter and turned it into a whole new sexy style, and with the lynx-like grace that he possessed no matter what he did, Malfoy was hot stuff.
Hermione bet he could even sneeze and make it look really graceful. He was near-perfect, which was saying a lot. But he was a bastard, which pretty much takes precedence over everything else.
"Wife?" the lady inquired innocently, batting her eyelashes at Malfoy.
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed again, "Oh, you're very funny. But no, she's not. She's merely a disgruntled colleague with a lot of self-esteem issues. It's obvious why."
Hermione glared daggers at him, "Malfoy, one more insulting word and you will be saying your free dinner in Paris goodbye."
Malfoy immediately made an imitation of pulling a zipper across his lips and crossing his chest.
"Thought so," Hermione nodded. "That's what we agreed on. You help me, and I take you for dinner in Paris whenever you like. We didn't agree on you helping me, then insult me at every turn and I still take you out for dinner. So, Draco, help me help you."
Malfoy rolled his eyes at that and spoke to the attendant, "Make it quick. We're on a rather tight schedule."
"Of course, sir," the attendant batted her eyelashes at him again, and Malfoy smiled charmingly.
The makeover session was agonizing. The attendant had pressed stuff into her eyes so hard, as if trying to poke her eyeballs out with the brushes, which left Hermione's eyes completely watery and irritated. Hermione figured that wasn't attractive at all from the looks Malfoy was giving her.
Despite the politeness and gentleness of the attendant, the end-product was quite unbelievable. Hermione Granger had turned into a frumpy no-makeup-on-all-the-bloody-time into classically stunning beauty. She had approved of this look while she examined at herself in the mirror, and she caught Malfoy giving her an approving look as well.
"That's exactly it. You want your eyes to look stunning and your lips to look really kissable without trying too hard. Don't go overboard though, you might end up looking like a slag. Which, in Weasley's books, is most attractive, but we're trying to preserve your dignity here, Granger."
Hermione never took the effort to make herself up. It was because she believed that it was all going to come off anyway, and one way or another the guy will inevitable see what's underneath. But then again, men … Men like what they see.
While Malfoy charmingly thanked the attendant, she proceeded to give him a strip of paper (which, obviously, had her number in it). Malfoy politely accepted and pocketed it. He had then asked the woman to help Hermione pick out the replica of the products used on her to be purchased, but Hermione ended up doing it herself – constantly looking back and forth between the mirror and the makeup range to check the similarity – as the woman was clearly busy with sex-on-legs Draco-bloody-Malfoy.
Just as Hermione was about to take out her purse to pay the bill, Malfoy stopped her.
"No, no, Granger! Let me," he said, taking out one of his gold-plated cards and handing it to the cashier – who was always eyeing him lustily.
"But why?"
"I'm helping you, remember? So let me deal with the process. Help me help you," he mimicked.
Hermione had wondered when she had stopped getting annoyed with his antics and started to find them endearing – or maybe it was her brain unable to take anymore of Malfoy's rubbish so it just chose to ignore him.
They left the store in a hurry, with the previous attendant yelling out, "Call me!"
Their next stop was a women's clothing store. Malfoy, to her surprise, marched right up to the store and demanded for the sexiest lingerie, casual wears and office wears available. At his authoritative manner, everybody jumped into action, bustling left and right while Malfoy examined his hair in the mirror.
They took Hermione's measurements and her bust size and presented every single article of clothing to Malfoy.
"That, that, that … that, that, ugh, not that, that," he pointed, "And this one, definitely this one. This one, and the basic black. That would be all."
She was then ushered into the fitting room, where she tried every single piece of clothing, to find that she wasn't exactly disappointed. Malfoy clearly had taste. She agreed on every article of clothing, except for the push-up bras that he insisted she match with every outfit.
"Because Weasley is easily fooled by what he sees and likes," Malfoy had explained briefly. Hermione had just shrugged him off and brought the whole bundle to the attendant, who proceeded to pack it all up for her. Malfoy flashed his bright and shiny card and his bright and shiny smile again and they left for the next stop.
"Heels. We need to get you out of those boring librarian's-grandmother's-old-shoes-when-she-was-also-a-librarian almost-heels that you insist on wearing every day," Malfoy said.
"But they're comfortable."
"I know, but Weasley probably doesn't give a shit," he said simply, and that effectively shut Hermione up.
"But what do you think, Malfoy?" Hermione had asked after a while.
"I think a woman is beautiful when she's comfortable in her own skin," he answered.
"I am comfortable in my own skin."
"But this is Weasley we're talking about. He wouldn't know beauty unless it danced naked in front of him and slapped him in the face. Which is exactly what you're going to do."
Hermione's eyes widened at that.
"I'm going get dance naked in front of him and slap him in the face?"
"Oh, silly silly Granger," Malfoy smiled a little, "Of course not. That was just a figure of speech. Unless you think winning Weasley over would be easier that way, then by all means!"
They walked into the shoe store, and Hermione's eyes were presented with the sluttiest heels she had ever seen in her entire life.
"Ugh!" Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste.
"My thoughts exactly," Malfoy said as he pulled her inside towards the more elegant/classy/tasteful section.
"Much better," Hermione nodded.
"Sit down and try these on," Malfoy almost-commanded and handed her a classic pointy-heeled pair of shoes.
It fit her perfectly, and it looked elegant and sexy at the same time.
Malfoy picked another one and handed it to her, this time a strappy one. She tried it on and she immediately was met by approving looks from Malfoy.
"We'll take both," he had said to the attendant – who, also (to Hermione's exasperation) was checking him out ever since he walked in.
"Both?" Hermione asked, "Why not just take the classic black ones?"
"They both suit you. But the second one … you have nice feet, Granger. Best show them off since you have it."
Malfoy did his flashing-of-card-and-smile before leaving the store.
"What's next?" Malfoy asked, while carrying half the load of the shopping they had done that day.
"Perfume."
"Ah, right. Most essential."
They walked into a perfume shop and Malfoy demanded for something specific again.
"Give me something with vanilla in it."
"Vanilla, really?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, Granger. Vanilla is one of the most appealing smells according to men, and I wholeheartedly agree with it. It smells absolutely divine."
"Let's try it then," she said, as the attendant handed her a strip of perfumed paper.
Hermione inhaled and almost moaned and salivated simultaneously. It was a weird sensation. It was as if she smelt the most delicious thing in the world. No wonder Malfoy liked the smell. It was mouth-watering.
"Do you see what I mean now?" Malfoy asked, to which she responded with a vigorous nod and a dreamy glaze over her eyes. Malfoy shook his head and they purchased it.
"I believe we're done with the preparations, are we not?" he said.
Hermione procured the paper and glanced at the last line on the list.
"Tears. That doesn't make sense. Is that even purchasable?"
"Don't be silly, Granger. Before I explain it to you, we must sit down and have dinner. I don't know about you, but shopping with a woman wears me out completely."
"I don't know if you've noticed but I wasn't exactly the one that was doing most of the shopping, you were. I was just chaperoning," Hermione retorted.
Malfoy gave her a haughty glance and sniffed in response.
They sat down at a quaint Italian restaurant and had dinner.
"So, tears," Hermione started.
"Oh, yes. The deadliest weapon. If this doesn't work then I have to hand it to Weasley, he's the most hard-to-please man on the planet if he's able to refuse you after that. Be the manipulative creature that you are."
Hermione waited patiently, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.
"Men, as you probably already know, are completely weak against tears. It's amazing. I can't even begin to grasp the logic behind it, but that's just it. If all else fails, just cry. Come on; give me your best dramatic-crying look, Granger. Manipulate me."
Hermione looked blankly at him, eyes wide as saucers and jaw slack.
"By Merlin, Granger, that's terrible. Is that the best you could do?" Malfoy frowned, "Even I could do better than that, I think, and that's saying something – seeing as how I'm always calm and cool and composed and all."
Malfoy, Hermione thought, likes the sound of his own voice too much, but Hermione also found that she didn't mind it at all. She had caught herself admitting to that many times tonight and it was beginning to scare her. Perhaps Malfoy was an acquired taste.
"I don't see how that will possibly help," Hermione said.
"Trust me, Granger. If the heels, the face, the clothes and the smell don't have any effect on him, the tears will most certainly stir something within him. And that's the protective bullshit that men have embedded in them. It will work. Think of it as your last resort, yeah? See how much power of manipulation women have over men?"
"Alright, but I can't cry on cue," she replied.
"Shame. I would have loved to see you all snotty and teary-eyed," he sighed.
"Not in a million years, Malfoy."
"So what is your itinerary for this week?" Malfoy pushed his clean plate aside and listened to her intently.
"Well … tomorrow's Wednesday so the boys have this 'pool night' after dinner where they just gather at a random bar and play pool for a couple of hours with a couple of beers."
"Oh, and they totally drag you into it?"
"Oh yes, I'm quite good at pool because of it. Beat all of them most of the time."
"I'm impressed, Granger," Malfoy nodded approvingly, then quickly shook his head, "But that tactic won't work on incompetent people like Weasley. You need to weaken yourself up, pretend to miss all the balls and not know how to hold the cue stick. Bend over in a mini skirt. Stuff like that."
"That almost sounds disgusting."
"It's what the man of your dreams likes."
"Hmph."
"So tell you what, I'll be over tomorrow at let's saying, eight – and I'll help you figure out your clothing and what-have-you to make sure he feels like he just got slapped in the face with a cue stick."
"Okay. But before I forget, Malfoy, I just want to thank you," Hermione said and grabbed Malfoy's hand across the table. He looked at her in surprise. "I had a great time tonight."
Malfoy's features softened a little and he sniffed to cover it up.
"Of course you would. Anyone would feel that way around me."
Hermione rolled her eyes.